Dire Straits
by Michael2
Summary: Wanting a career other than a waiter, a man becomes a hovertank driver. But then war comes to Earth...
1. Southern Cross

I hopped into the cockpit of the VHT-1 Spartas hovertank and pressed buttons and flipped switches to start up the engines. I made one last check of the instruments, and then I drove the hovertank out of the garage.

I looked around. The colonel had ordered the 18th ATAC Troop to take a forward position. I could feel myself sweat under my arming doublet; the air was warm. I was hoping that this was a drill.

"All troops, get ready," I heard the colonel say. "Enemy penetration has been detected."

I made a last minute check of my instruments. I knew that we would be in combat within minutes. I reflected briefly on how I came to be here.

Not long ago I was on a UNAF transport plane, heading to my first operational assignment. It was a crowded plane, and there was a lot of cargo stored in the back. The whole flight was about six hours. I had heard that there were suborbitals that could cross the Atlantic in less than two hours; those were reserved for generals and admirals.

"Attention, all passengers," said the pilot. "We are beginning our descent into Gibraltar Air Field. Please fasten your seat belts."

And so I did. Here I was, about to start my career for real. After my enlistment, I went to Oregon for Basic, and then Pennsylvania for Officer Candidate School. After that, I went to a three-month training course at the Hovertank School near Reno, Nevada. I can remember my transition from learning to follow orders to learning how to give orders and learning the ins and outs of the new VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks, which had been adopted for general use by the United Earth Forces just last year. After graduation, I took a one-week leave in my home in Jamaica. My orders were to report to Fort Gibraltar. I returned to Reno, making travel arrangements to fly from there to Gibraltar Air Field, the nearest Military Air Command terminal to Fort Gibraltar.

I soon felt the plane land, hearing the rumbling of the landing gears as they rolled along the surface of the runway. In a few minutes we had come to a complete stop.

I stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac of the air base. I had my duffel bag and my orders with me. I could see the hangar and the control towers. I also saw a suborbital jet; a general was probably visiting.

"Welcome to Gibraltar Air Field, sir," said an Air Force corporal, saluting me. "Please follow me to the terminal."

And so I did. The Military Airlift Command terminal was like a scaled-down version of a commercial airport terminal, with a waiting room with chairs and tables. Desks on the sides provided services for travelers. Air Force recruitment posters decorated the room. I waited for a few more minutes.

I then heard someone call my name.

I looked and saw this little lady wearing camouflage, which was much more casual than the Class "A" uniform I was wearing.

"Good afternoon, sir," said the little lady. "Corporal Mary Sue Hines, from Fort Gibraltar. I'm here to drive you to the base, sir."

We all entered this Humvee that was waiting outside the motor pool. Another man walked in. He was dressed in Class "A's", and his sleeve emblems showed that he was a buck private.

"It looks like everyone's in," said the corporal.

"Take us to the base, then."

"Yes, sir."

As Corporal Hines drove the Humvee out of the airfield, I read the brochure about Fort Gibraltar. It was located on the coast of Morocco, near Tangier, and was a sister base to Gibraltar Air Field on the other side. It had the usual amenities of a permanent UEF base- a commissary, Post Exchange, officers' and enlisted clubs, bowling alleys.

"We are going under the strait now," said Hines.

She drove the Humvee into this tunnel with three lanes in one direction. The Gibraltar Tunnel was over eight miles long. It is sometimes hard to believe that it was built with technology gleaned from an alien spaceship. After a few minutes, we were out of the tunnel and in the Kingdom of Morocco. I could see the city of Tangier from the highway, with its seaside resorts.

"Here we are," she said, exiting from the highway. We approached this gatehouse, with the sign "U.N. Army Base Fort Gibraltar" printed in bold letters. An MP checked our papers and then the corporal drove us into the base. The base looked much the same as other Army posts, with square buildings and signs. I saw a platoon of soldiers marching along the street, with an executive sergeant leading a chant.

"Here is the base housing office," said Corporal Hines.

I entered the base housing office. It has this waiting room with the usual decoration of chairs, tables, and recruitment posters. I walked up to the window where a corporal dressed in camouflage was sitting.

"How may I help you, sir?" asked the lady.

"I'm transferring in," I said, handing her a copy of my transfer orders.

The corporal typed into the keyboard of her computer terminal. "I have your assignment, sir. I'll be printing it out."

She handed me the sheet of paper. I read my new housing assignment. It was BOQ (Bachelor Officer Quarters) 33.

"The base has a shuttle service, sir," she said. "We've a map."

I took one of the maps, and looked at the route that the shuttle would take. The shuttle- a little bus- stopped near the base housing office and I stepped inside.

"Welcome, sir," said the bus driver.

The bus went around, and I looked around to become more familiar with the base since I would be staying here long term. Along the way, I stood up to salute a major who stepped inside the bus. Finally, the shuttle bus stopped next to the bachelor officer quarters, and I stepped off along with two hours.

"New here?" asked this young man.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Second Lieutenant Michael Meyers," he said.

I introduced myself.

"No rank inside the BOQ," said Lieutenant Meyers.

The BOQ was this three-story brick building, with small trees growing a few feet away. We entered through one of the doors and into this sitting area with tables and chairs and a TV.

"This is our common living room, so to speak," said Lieutenant Meyers. "Quarters are down the hall. It's basically a bedroom with an attached bathroom. Much cheaper and more convenient than renting an apartment in Tangier."

"Better than what I had in Basic or OCS or Hovertank School," I said.

"Much better than when we go out to the field for field exercises," said Meyers. "We junior officers get to sleep in a Quonset hut, if we're lucky. Here, we also have a game room with a foosball set. No girls here; they are in a separate building. We take meals in the officers' mess, or we can go to one of the fast food places we have here."

"What about going out to town for a meal?" I asked.

"If you got some money saved up, fine. We're not on deployment, so we can leave the base whenever we're not on duty. Savor your relative freedom here, friend- you could be sent to the other side of the world or even out of the solar system on some extended deployment."

And so I went to my quarters- Room 33. As Lieutenant Meyers had said, it was basically a bedroom with an attached bathroom. I put down my duffel bag.

I sat on the bed. It wasn't much, but it was comfortable. I would need the sleep for I am scheduled to report for duty at 0900.

Ooooooo

I woke up at 0600 on my first day. After getting dressed in my Class "A's"- a coat, pants, dress shoes, and hat- I walked over to the officers' mess. Breakfast was served cafeteria style, and I had myself some scrambled eggs, bacon, and orange juice. After my breakfast, I caught a shuttle bus, riding over to the headquarters of the 6th ATAC battalion.

The headquarters was this three story brick building. I went inside, and the front lobby was a typical lobby, with a reception desk, tables, and chairs.

"I am here to see the colonel," I said. "I have transfer orders."

The corporal looked at my transfer orders. "The colonel is on the third floor, sir," he said.

I took an elevator to the third floor, and walked along the hallway. I entered this office. It was a smaller version of the main lobby, with a couch, a table, and a desk. A sergeant sat behind the desk.

"The colonel's not here right now, sir," she said, standing at attention. "I'll notify him that you're here."

"Thank you, Sergeant," I replied. I waited inside the office for an hour.

Then some people in camouflage uniform entered the room. I checked the rank insignia, and saw the silver oak leaves of the lieutenant colonel.

The lieutenant colonel stood out, for he had pale lavender skin. He was a Zentraedi. Twenty years ago, his people came to Earth looking for a crashed alien spaceship. One thing led to another, and the Robotech War started. The Zentraedi were defeated, and we made peace with most of them. Some of the Zentraedi veterans now serve in the UEF, like the colonel here.

I saluted and reported for duty.

"In my office, Lieutenant," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera.

We all entered the colonel's private office. It was more spacious that the front office. A wooden desk was the centerpiece. A window covered with blinds was in the back. To the right was a small bookcase, and to the left was a steel file cabinet.

"I've read your file," said Colonel Kravshera. "Excellent evaluations from OCS and Hovertank School. I will assign you to the 18th ATAC troop under First Lieutenant Jack Emerson here."

I looked and saw this man in his early twenties with close-cropped brown hair. "You will be under my command, Lieutenant," said Emerson.

"Yes, sir."

"My second in command, Second Lieutenant Michael Meyers."

"We've met, sir," I've said. "He showed me around the BOQ."

A dark-haired woman spoke up. "Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital, senior enlistee with the 18th troop," she said. "I advise Lieutenants Emerson and Meyers and I supervise the other enlistees."

A dark haired man spoke up. "Major Yoon Shon," he said. "I'm the battalion XO. I take care of all the details."

"And I want to introduce Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon," said the colonel. "He's my senior enlisted advisor."

"Sir," the master sergeant said to me. "My advice is available to you- if no senior officer needs it."

"I guess I am last in line for your advice, Master Sergeant."

"Executive Sergeant Avital is a capable sergeant; she will assist you greatly."

"Lieutenant Emerson, I am sure you and your people can break our new arrival in," said Colonel Kravshera. "And the uniform for the day is camouflage. Get properly dressed ASAP."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Dismissed."

We left the battalion headquarters. Lieutenant Emerson led me to this building just down the street. The ground floor had a garage. It was dimly lit, and several people were working.

"This is where we keep our hovertanks," he said. I looked around, and saw over twenty Spartases. "The troop office is upstairs." We walked up this flight of stairs and went through the door.

The office was this big room, with several desks and partitions near the wall. In the back was a coffee maker. A huge file cabinet was to the left of the office.

"We have three entrances," said Executive Sergeant Avital. "Aside from the one we just went through, another entrance leads directly outdoors, and there is also a freight elevator."

"This will be your desk, Lieutenant," said Emerson, putting his hand on a steel desk. "Come with me." He led me to the corner of the office, which was separated from the rest of the office by a partition. "This is my private office."

"Pretty big," I said. The place was only as big as a small closet.

"It's big enough," said the first lieutenant, sitting behind the steel desk. "It gives me enough privacy."

"What is my assignment, sir?" I asked.

"Your primary assignment is to drill in the Spartas hovertanks, to maintain your personal combat readiness," said Emerson. "Your secondary assignment is logistics. Logistics is one of the most important things in an Army unit, whether it is the 18th ATAC troop, the Southern Cross Field Army, or the entire United Earth Forces. You will get dressed in the uniform of the day, and then I want you to look over the logistics records. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," I said.

Oooooo

The rest of the day was like a routine day at the office, as I looked over the records of everything that the 18th troop had, from the Hovertanks to ammuntion to spare parts to fuel and supplies. I met the supply sergeant, Staff Sergeant Takashi Suzaku. I was also fitted with my arming doublet, which I would wear when driving the Spartas. I had my dinner break. There were two lunch shifts, and I had my dinner break apart from Lieutenant Emerson's dinner break. In the military, what we usually call lunch is dinner and what we call dinner is supper.

Lieutenant Emerson dismissed the troop at 1700, which was typical. Soldiers usually work eight hours a day, unless otherwise ordered. I decided to have supper at the officers' mess. I got my meal from the enlisted food servers, which was ground beef in this sauce, steamed broccoli and asparagus, with water to wash it down.

I sat with the officers of my troop. I told them that I was from Jamaica, and I decided to become an officer because I did not want a career as a food server catering to tourists.

"I was a military brat," said Jack Emerson. "My dad was one of the original officer candidates for the Army, and I moved around with him. He also took in two others whose parents were deployed on the Pioneer Mission; they are like a brother and sister to me. My dad is now a lieutenant general and he is the chief of staff at the Southern Cross Field Army headquarters in Monument City."

"And what about you, Lieutenant Meyers?" I asked.

"It's Mike in the mess," he said. "I'm an alien."

"You do not have gills or anything."

"My family resides on Glorie Colony. We were one of the original settlers."

"What is it like there?"

"Colder than Earth," replied Mike. "The ice caps are a lot bigger on the planet. We have two moons there, and we share the world with these four-armed lizard people."

"You met them?" I asked.

"I've met a few of them; they all have a high pitched squeaky voice, like when you inhale helium."

"You know," Emerson said to me, "we should go out to town sometime for supper. There's this place in Tangier that has this Italian-Greek-Lebanese fusion cuisine. I definitely enjoyed it, even if the food is a little expensive."

"Emerson," I heard someone say. I looked and saw this dark-haired man dressed in camouflage.

"Shirogane," said Emerson.

"Ready to get another ass kicking when the colonel assigns another war game?"

"First Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane," said Mike. "He's commander of the 17th ATAC."

"We'll be dishing it out," said Emerson.

"And who's this?" asked Shirogane.

I introduced myself.

"Emerson had better hope you can pull a few tricks up your sleeve," said Shirogane.

"Hey guys!" yelled this lady. "Look at the TV."

I looked at a wall-mounted Pioneer plasma television and watched. The caption read Monument City. The scene being shown featured smoke and fire.

"There is no word yet on the attack which happened just an hour ago," said a news reporter. "The Army had successfully repelled the attack against this yet-to-be-identified enemy."

I rushed back to the BOQ's living room. The television there was already tuned in to an English-language station. Reporters were on the scene, reporting on the attack on Monument City. All of us were glued to the set.

After about half an hour, the scene shifted to a press room. It was identified as the United Nations headquarters. This bald man in a green uniform approached the podium. A caption identified him as United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard.

"Good afternoon," said Supreme Commander Leonard. "As you know, Monument City had been attacked by an as-of-yet unidentified enemy. We tracked the origin of the attack to a fleet of ships in Earth orbit. The design is different from that of the Zentraedi Nation. The design of the ships is consistent with an attack on a space station near Saturn about three months ago."

"Do you believe this is a new alien race, sir?" asked one of the reporters.

"The evidence would suggest that. Excuse me; I have a meeting to attend. General Emerson will take further questions."

A dark-haired man stepped to the podium to relieve Leonard. A caption identified him as Lieutenant General Rolf Emerson.

"What do you plan to do?" asked another reporter.

"We watch, we observe," answered General Emerson. "And we learn about our enemy. We should remember that during the Robotech War, the crew of the SDF-1 _Macross_ learned about the Zentraedi, and we defeated them and later befriended most of them."

"Could the enemy be a rogue faction of the Zentraedi?" asked a reporter.

"We can only speculate at this point," replied the general. "We need intel. We are committed to gathering as much intel as we can."

"We're going to be very busy," said Meyers.

Indeed, we were. Colonel Kravshera had the whole battalion put on full tactical alert. I myself had to personally supervise the maintenance checks on the hovertanks in my troop.

And then came the message to move out. And here I was, anticipating first combat.

"Maybe this is a false alarm," I said. "We'll just hang out here. We'll be going home."

"We have incoming," said Jack Emerson. "Lock and load."

I tensely waited. The waiting was ended by a series of explosions, and we all took cover. Smoke was everywhere.

It was then that the enemy closed in. Looking through binoculars, I got a glimpse of them. They looked like suits of armor riding on sleds.

I pressed a button, transforming the Spartas into battloid mode, a configuration resembling a giant suit of armor. We started firing towards the enemy. A few of them were knocked out of their flying sleds.

Even so, enough of them landed on the beach. I had a closer look of them. They looked like giant suits of armor; I did not know if they were robots or piloted mecha. Almost all of them were blue; one of them was red. Maybe that red one was the leader.

There were more and more explosions even as I fired at the enemy. Everything felt somehow detached, as the rhythm of opening fire, moving, and opening fire continued. Smoke and fire were everywhere.

Even as part of me was engaged in furious combat with the enemy, I could understand the importance of this battle. The Straits of Gibraltar had been a major strategic area for the past few millennia, connecting the Mediterranean with the Atlantic. It was no wonder that alien invaders would try to take the straits.

The last time Earth was invaded, the invaders only wanted a restored alien vessel. This time, we did not know the invader's motivations yet.

"We're pinned down!" I heard Jack's voice yell.

I looked around, and I noticed that we were surrounded by the enemy armor suits.

There was a flash, and I felt knocked around.

And then darkness consumed me.


	2. Recovery

I wasn't dead.

I hurt too much to be dead.

Opening my eyes, I looked and saw a curtain surrounding me. I can feel I was on a bed, and there was this antiseptic smell in the room.

The curtain was opened, and this Air Force nurse in a white outfit was revealed to me. I figured I was in a hospital somewhere.

"I see you are awake, Lieutenant," he said.

I saw and felt that my right arm was in a sling. I flexed my fingers, making sure that I can still move them. I moved my legs, thanking God that I was not paralyzed. Standing up, the room spun around and sharp spikes of pain penetrated my head.

"Take it easy, Lieutenant," said the nurse. "The doctor said you have a concussion."

"When can I get back to duty?" I asked.

"We'll need to run some more tests. We have a brain-scanning machine in Valencia Air Force Hospital in Spain. We'll have to set up an appointment. Look on the bright side, Lieutenant. You get a free trip to Spain. There's a remote if you want to watch TV."

And so I watched TV on the Sony color television. All of the news channels were about the attack. From what I have heard, there were attacks on military facilities all over Earth.

"We have captured the remains of the enemy," said Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard. "They have been taken to undisclosed locations for study. Casualty reports have come in. Seven thousand of us were killed in this massive attack. Among them was Ocean Patrol Admiral Hao Sung, commander of the Robotech Defense Forces Command…"

I lay in bed watching the TV, wondering if anyone in our battalion was killed.

About an hour later, Lieutenant Jack Emerson and Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital visited me.

"How are you feeling?" asked Emerson.

"My head hurts, sir," I replied.

"If you hurt, you are still alive," replies Sergeant Avital.

"Was anyone from our battalion killed?"

"No," replied Emerson. "And you should thank Sergeant Avital for that. She got you out of that hovertank while under enemy fire."

"Thank you," I said to the sergeant.

"It was my duty, sir," replied Avital. "You would do the same for Lieutenant Emerson or me or anyone else."

"At least you have a place to sleep," said Emerson. "The men's BOQ was hit. I have to sleep in this Quonset hut with the others. You got your own private room."

"And it is the same size as my old room," I said.

"You're lucky indeed," said Lieutenant Emerson. "I still have to finish my reports. We will see you soon."

Sergeant Avital saluted me; I was unable to return her salute due to my condition. And so they left.

Oooooooo

The Air Force doctors prescribed painkillers to deal with my headaches. The painkillers did make me feel a little loopy. Having a busted arm was a huge inconvenience those first few days, including when I was using the bathroom, which the Army called the latrine.

I managed to make an international call to my parents back home in Jamaica. It was a privilege given to soldiers wounded in combat.

"How are you doing?" asked Mom.

"My arm is in a sling," I said. "And I got headaches."

"So you think joining the U.N.'s Army would be some adventure, like a video game?" asked Dad. "People get hurt and even killed. If you wanted to march around in the uniform, you could have joined the Jamaican Defense Force."

"Were there any casualties in Jamaica?"

"Fortunately, no," said Mom. "To be honest, we don't have much worth attacking. We haven't been attacked since that Robotech War almost twenty years ago."

"I don't have that much time left on the phone. How are Paul and Larry?" I asked. Paul was my big brother, and Larry was my three-year-old nephew.

"They're doing well," said Dad. "Try not to get hurt."

"I'll be careful, Mom, Dad. But I have to put my men's safety before my own."

I hung up the phone.

Eventually, I was transported to the Air Force hospital in Valencia in Spain for my brain scan, to check for any permanent brain damage. I was in this ambulance that took me through the Gibraltar Tunnel and then through the highways of Spain and into Valencia. I wished that I could have done some sightseeing of the Spanish countryside.

The hospital was bigger that the one in Gibraltar Base; the inside looked pretty much the same- white and antiseptic, with doctors and nurses walking around in their white outfits. This blond-haired doctor in a white coat had me lay down.

"You will hear a buzzing sound, Lieutenant," he said.

And so I did. I lay inside this chamber inside this huge machine and sure enough, there was this buzzing sound. After a few minutes I got out.

"We'll be studying the results, Lieutenant," said the doctor. "You should have transportation back to Tangier."

So the ambulance brought me back to the base hospital. I soon had to do this physical therapy where I had to do exercises with my arm and hand. This lady, Air Force First Lieutenant Sharp, was my physical therapist.

One day, Lieutenant Jack Emerson and Lieutenant Michael Meyers came to visit me in the hospital cafeteria. It looked like a smaller version of the mess, with a coffee machine and a vending machine with snacks.

"Are there any news, sir?" I asked.

"It's Jack while we're in here," said Jack. "The base is still rebuilding the men's BOQ; we still got to sleep in those Quonset huts."

"So who is the enemy?"

"We don't know," answered Mike. "They haven't made any demands. We also don't have contact with Space Station Liberty; I've tried accessing their public servers and I can't get through."

"The real battle is up there, in space," said Jack. "Our fleet and the enemy fleet are still up there. If the enemy destroys our defense fleet, they can bomb us from orbit."

"I wonder what we can do," I said.

I flexed my hand, realizing that I was powerless against the enemy.

Oooooooo

I couldn't worry about a war that would be decided in space, so I concentrated on getting my hand on tip-top working shape again. I got to know Lieutenant Sharp. She mentioned that her first name was Melissa, and she was from this place called Georgia, in North America.

"The Air Force paid for my education," she said. "I want to go to civilian practice back home as soon as my service obligation is done."

"And this war?" I asked.

"I don't know. If we know what these aliens wanted. I guess Earth's Supreme Command will have to worry about it."

Neither of us wanted to talk about what would happen if the enemy won. Instead, she spoke about the beagle that she had at home in Georgia, and her house in the forested hills.

Then one day, the doctor came to see me.

"You have a clean bill of health, Lieutenant," said the doctor. "You may return to active duty."

I had been so busy with therapy that I did not notice that my headaches were gone.

"I'd better get back to the office before I am AWOL, sir," I said.

And so I did. Along the way I passed by the men's BOQ. It was a wreck, and bulldozers from a construction battalion were still cleaning things up.

I went back to the troop office. It still looked the same as before.

I immediately noticed the lavender complexion of Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. I immediately saluted and reported for duty.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," said the colonel. "I'm here to give you something." He opened this velvet box, and there was a purple medal shaped like a heart. "Here is your Purple Heart for getting wounded. And you should thank Executive Sergeant Avital that you are not receiving this posthumously."

"I will do that, sir," I said. I faced Sergeant Avital. "Thank you."

Colonel Kravshera left the office. A young red-haired man whose sleeve markings indicated that he was a private first class faced me.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Private First Class Glenn LaBelle, sir," he said.

"As you were, Private," I said.

"Lieutenant," Jack said to me. "Listen, we've an important assignment for you. Sergeant Avital will be accompanying you."

And so we went on assignment.

It was a march. All of us were marching along the roads of the base. Being the officer, I marched in front of the column, with Sergeant Avital marching beside me. I knew the importance of formation marching, as it upholds unit cohesion. As I learned back in Basic, we always work as a team.

The next few weeks were routine. I had to sleep in the Quonset hut, and my first night there was much more rustic than sleeping in the hospital bed. There was little privacy.

"You know," said Mike. "Too bad they can't make the women's BOQ coed until the men's BOQ is rebuilt."

I and a few other officers laughed. For the next few weeks, I saw the scaffolding for the men's BOQ go up as the construction crews worked. I also had to check on the maintenance of the hovertanks, including a new VHT-1 Spartas that was assigned to me, and we continued to do training in the simulators as well as PT to keep ourselves in shape. I had also learned that contact with Space Station Liberty was re-established.

One day, Lieutenant Emerson had a meeting in the office.

"The colonel has informed us that we will be doing joint exercises with an Air Force squadron," said Jack.

And so we did.


	3. Desert Blues

"All right you Micronians, we will be linking up with the Air Force's 56th Squadron," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. It was a warm summer day, and we were all standing at the parade ground, with the colonel, Major Yoon, and the senior battalion staff facing us. "Our mission is to conducting forward observation operations for the squadron. We will find cardboard targets, signal them to the Air Force pilots, and let them unleash their hell. The bombing range is at the bottom of the Atlas Mountains, near the Sahara Desert. This will be a nighttime drill, so cancel your evening plans. We will leave as soon as possible. Try to avoid getting blown up."

I could swear that Kravshera was looking straight at me.

"Let's move out," said the colonel.

And so we did.

The VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks were all loaded onto flatbed trailers pulled by tractors. We hovertank drivers boarded large trucks. The Army convoy then left through the base's cargo gate, where trucks rolled in to bring essential supplies.

"At least we're getting some excitement," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"I prefer this over the enemy giving us excitement," I said.

We all knew that the enemy was in orbit around Earth, waiting for the next opportunity to attack.

A few hours later, we arrived at the site. Already, soldiers were setting up tents under the supervision of sergeants. The sun had set, and the lavender sky is fading into black, with the shadow of the Atlas Mountains looming in the west. These giant lights were turned on, providing illumination to the rising camp. Major Yoon stood in the center, with Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon at his side.

"This here will be the ground command post," he said. "Colonel Kravshera is up in the AWACS with the staff of the 56th squadron. Old tanks have been set up in the bombing range. The squadron captains in our battalion will receive maps."

The other officers and I went inside the officers' tent. It was even smaller than the Quonset hut in where we had been sleeping back on base. An aide handed up maps. I recall my military map reading lessons back in boot camp. I can see the contours representing the Atlas Mountains as they sloped down into the Sahara Desert.

A few minutes later we were summoned outside.

"We are ready to go," said Major Yoon. "All teams move out."

And so we did. I put on my arming doublet. It was not exactly comfortable, since there was still plenty of latent Sahara heat early in the evening. Up above us, the stars are clearly revealed; I could see the band of the Milky Way.

I got into my VHT-1 Spartas, flipping the switches to start the engine. We then moved out to the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. We all switched to battloid mode.

"Okay, team," said Lieutenant Jack Emerson. "We'd better use night-vision systems."

I had the night-vision system on. It made everything look green.

"The 56th Squadron is approaching," I heard Colonel Kravshera say over the radio. "All ground forces, be sure to mark the targets. And remember, this is a live fire exercise."

"We copy," said Jack. "Everyone move out and look for targets."

I can see the outline of the hills, and the main ridge of the Atlas Mountains in the distance.

"We have a target confirmed," I heard over the radio.

"Copy," said another voice.

I looked and saw something streak from the sky. I then heard a thud and saw a cloud of smoke.

"Keep alert, guys," said Jack.

I looked and saw this tracked vehicle with a turret- it was a tank.

"I've got a target," I said. "I am marking the target." Our battloids were equipped with a homing laser that we would use to mark the targets.

"We see the target," said this female voice. "We are going in."

Less that a minute later, the tank was blown up with ordnance from the VF-11 Thunderbolts. Debris from the tank rained down on us. I heard some more explosions in the distance.

And so we repeated this with the other targets for about an hour. It was different actually being here instead of just operating the simulators back on base.

We got a message from Colonel Kravshera about two hours after starting the exercise. "We are done," he said. "Ground units, pack things up and return to base."

"We copy," replied Jack.

"We've done a good job," said Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital. "Now who will volunteer for washing the hovertanks?"

And so we all took down and packed the tents, loaded the equipment into trucks and the hovertanks onto the flatbed trailers, and returned to base way after midnight.

The next day, Jack spoke to me and Mike.

"I've invited some pilots from the Air Force 56th Squadron over to our O-club on Friday," he said.

"Interesting," I said.

"I figured that we might as well meet them in person and down a few drinks and onion rings," said Jack. "And we're not on duty next weekend, so none of you guys do anything to piss off the colonel."

Ooooooooo

After doing some personal errands like depositing my paycheck at the base's credit union, I got dressed in my Class "C" uniform- a white short-sleeved shirt and dress pants and dress shoes and garrison cap- and went to the O-club.

The O-club looked pretty much the same as it did the last few times I was there. There were two sections- a restaurant section and a bar section. The restaurant section had a carpeted floor, while the bar section had a varnished hardwood floor. The food here was stuff like buffalo wings and onion rings and sandwiches. The food was not rationed like the officers' mess; officers can buy as much food as they can afford.

We were all sitting in the bar section. The centerpiece was a wood-paneled bar with a brass rail. Leather-covered barstools encircled the bar. The walls had Army recruitment posters and pictures of hovertanks and older veritech battle tanks. There were some small circular tables with seats, and there was a clear section of the floor for dancing, and near the floor there was some karaoke equipment with a beer-bellied karaoke jockey attending to the equipment. Jack ordered us some shots as well as onion rings and buffalo wings with blue cheese dressing.

"I wonder where they are," said First Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane, who commanded the 6th battalion's 17th troop.

His question was answered a few minutes later. Some more people came into the room; I noticed that they were wearing Air Force "C" uniforms.

One of them, a black lady with short hair, ordered some drinks. She then approached our table. I looked at her shoulders and noticed the two silver bars of a United Nations Air Force first lieutenant.

"Are you Lieutenant Emerson?" she asked Jack.

"That's right, Lieutenant Jack Emerson at your service," he said.

"First Lieutenant Nina Washington," she said. "Bravo flight leader for the Air Force's Tactical Armored Space Corps' 56th squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Wong.

"It's great to meet you all in person," said Jack, leaning back. "And you can call me Jack, at least in the O-club. And are those drinks a thank-you gift for lighting up those targets?"

"All you did was mark a bunch of old tanks the Army had to get rid of anyway," she replied. "Now if you helped us actually destroy a couple of the enemy's war machines, then maybe I would buy you and your boys a drink."

"She's playing hard to get, Jack," said Mike.

_Didn't they all_, I thought.

Jack introduced the rest of us. Nina then introduced us to her group, a mix of men and women.

"I'm Shelby," said this lady with straight blond hair and eyes like blue topazes. I noted that she was little shorter than me. I made sure to take a longer look at her; she was a lady after all. "Third Lieutenant Shelby Porter of the 56th Squadron's Bravo Flight.

I introduced myself. "So you fly under Nina's command."

"Pretty much. She was placed in command of Bravo flight only a few months ago."

"And what do you pilots do? You must fly planes all day."

"Uh, no," answered Shelby. "I spend half of the time in the office, and the most of other half flying in the sims. Only occasionally do I actually fly the Thunderbolts."

"All, right you people," said the karaoke jockey, attracting my attention. "Let's get ready for some karaoke action! I will go first with this classic. Stage fright…"

And so the karaoke jockey started singing Lin Minmei's classic song.

"You know, maybe you should sign up," Mike said to me. "I heard there is this music style where you're from. Rugby, is it?"

"Reggae," I corrected him. "And I don't sing reggae."

"Too bad," said Mike.

About a few minutes later, the karaoke jockey was done with his song. "All right, Shelby is up next," he says.

Shelby Porter went up to the karaoke equipment and held a microphone. She started singing some pop song I sometimes heard on the radio.

And she was not singing that song well.

Glancing around, I saw a familiar-looking lady in a dress smiling at me. I looked into her eyes.

"I remember you," she said. "I helped with your recovery."

For a few seconds, my weeks of physical therapy to get back on duty surfaced. "You are Lieutenant Sharp, right?" I asked.

"Yes," she replies. "Melissa when I am off duty."

I reintroduced myself. "I've been so busy that I've forgotten about you."

"Our paths don't cross often," she said. "I can be found in the ladies' BOQ.

"Yeah, I saw that your BOQ is still standing. Our BOQ is still under construction so we men have to sleep in a Quonset. At least I know where to find you."

"May I buy you a drink?"

"I must be a real ladies man if _you_ are buying me drinks," I mused.

"I outrank you. I am a first and you are a third," she said. "We take care of those with a lower pay grade."

She ordered this blue-colored shot from the bartender. I gulped it down.

I then heard the karaoke jockey mention Jack's name. Jack went up on the stage, holding the microphone.

And then he started singing this gangster rap song. I was listening, and he was good.

"Your friend?" asked Melissa.

"He's the captain of my hovertank troop," I said.

Jack was turning out to be a very good singer. His singing was enticing me to dance, as some of the Army and Air Force officers were already doing. He could have himself a career ins singing after his service obligation is finished.

I took Melissa's hand. "Shall we?"

And so we started dancing. It felt so much like fun. And there were certain feelings coursing through me. I was feeling some pressure.

And then Jack was done singing.

"Great song, Jack," I said to him.

"Thanks," he replied.

"So you can sing too," Nina said to him.

"Yeah," replied Jack. "I like singing rap music. I wanted to be a rap star when I was a kid."

"Then why didn't you pursue your dream?"

"It's kind of hard to earn a living. Either you make millions of dollars, or you don't make enough to feed yourself. When I became an adult, the Army was the only choice I had to support myself. Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoy my position, but once I finish my obligation, I'll get a real job and have more free time to pursue rapping."

"You could have been a waiter," I said. "They can make a lot of money if they work at the right place."

"And why didn't you become a waiter?" asked Nina.

"Going around busing tables and having to take all those orders," I said.

"Well," said Melissa, "in the Army you do have to go around and take orders."

"I was commissioned as an officer, so I give orders too."

"Only when Mike and I are not available," said Jack. "And your authority over the troop is quite limited. Sure, you outrank Sergeant Avital, but she has more pull in the troop than you do. You won't get to order a buck private around unless someone like me or Avital assigns him to you." He glances at Melissa. "And who is your new friend here?"

"I helped him with his physical therapy," she said. "First Lieutenant Melissa Sharp, U.N. Air Force."

"I wonder what kind of therapy you offered," said Lieutenant Shirogane, winking his eye. Some of the other men chuckled.

"Yeah, Marvin Gaye sang a song about that, right?" said another officer.

We stayed at the O-club for a few more hours, and some of the other officers and guests sang karaoke.

"I will be leaving now," said Melissa.

"How about dinner at the officers' mess tomorrow?" I asked.

"The officers' mess?"

"I'm only a third lieutenant; we do not make that much."

And so she left the club. Not long afterward, I stepped outside.

"This could be the start of something," said Jack.

"We'll see," I said. "I've learned not to put all of the fish in one basket."

Ooooooo

I had dinner with Melissa Sharp in the officers' mess the next day, I could feel a residue of last night's party with the Air Force's 56th Squadron . The meal we had was macaroni and cheese and a side serving of steamed broccoli; the armed services usually served cheap, filling stuff for dinner.

It was strange referring to the midday meal as dinner, as the military uses the term "dinner" for the midday meal and "supper" for the evening meal.

"How do you like it in Morocco?" I asked.

"It's certainly different from home," answered Melissa, picking up some macaroni and cheese with her fork. "I've been off base with my co-workers; I visited Tangier and Casablanca. I never knew that there would be so much diversity. I was expecting everyone to be Arabic."

"There is a Spanish neighborhood in Tangier," I said. "Also Italians and Nigerians. There's a little restaurant in Tangier that has this Italian-Spanish-Lebanese fusion cuisine, and it's run by this Nigerian dude. My people and I went there a few weeks ago."

"I've heard there are Berber towns in the mountains that are open to tourists," said Melissa. "Maybe one day. What was it like in Jamaica?"

"During the summer, it was humid," I said. I briefly recalled my childhood in Jamaica, the waves crashing on the beach, the feel of the moisture in the air. "I liked it when it rained during the summer. I would just go out and let the rain fall on me."

"Must be a lot of exciting places there."

"There are clubs; they cater to the rich tourists from America and Europe, and you'd have to pay a lot. I don't think you could afford to visit Jamaica a lot on a first lieutenant's salary."

"Ah, but I have a pay bonus due to my specialty," said Melissa. "So I can probably take a vacation there once a year."

Oooooooo

It was a few days later when Jack made an announcement in the troop office.

"We'll get to earn some combat pay soon," said the troop captain. "We're being ordered to move out."

"What is the situation, sir?" asked Executive Sergeant Avital.

"The colonel will brief us once we get there. Avital, get everyone ready to go."

"Yes, sir."

And so we did.

Avital supervised the loading of our hovertanks onto flatbed trailers. I went to the truck that was transporting the battalion's officers, and Jack joined us a few minutes later.

Soon I felt the truck rumble as it left the base and headed to its assigned destination.

"Maybe this is a drill," said a black-haired lady under Lieutenant Shirogane's command.

I doubted that.

The trip took a few hours; I had taken a sip or two from my canteen.

"Thank the logistics company for getting us places," said Mike.

We got off, and we were in this dry place; I figured we were at the northern edge of the Sahara Desert. Above us, the sky was soldiers set up tents under the supervision of Master Sergeant Cabon. It was hot, at least a hundred degrees, even with me spraying myself with water. I once again silently thanked the battalion's logistics company for bringing all the stuff we need to be able to function in the Sahara. In a few minutes, all the tents were set up, including the huge tent under where our Spartas hovertanks were parked.

"Sirs, the colonel will be briefing us," said Master Sergeant Cabon.

All of us, officers and enlistees, all gathered in a rectangular formation, except for those on watch. Colonel Kravshera faced us, with Major Yoon and Master Sergeant Cabon flanking him.

"If any of you thought this would be a drill, you will be disappointed," said the colonel. "The enemy has slipped through our air defenses and set up beachheads on the planet for further attacks. A Bedouin clan spotted the enemy on a plateau about seventy miles east of Abadia, Algeria. The Algerian government has requested assistance in driving the invaders from their land. We've been detailed to provide support for the mission. Once the enemy location is confirmed, we will attack. The Space Marines' 25th Spartas hovertank battalion will attack from the east, and we will attack from the northwest. We will await the command to move out and attack. Make sure the sand filters are installed."

And so we checked and rechecked everything out there in the desert, making sure all the ammo was loaded and that we had all the supplies that we needed. Supplies were important; I had that drilled into my head when I was in Officer Candidate School.

And then Colonel Kravshera announced that we would be moving out. Master Sergeant Cabon barked orders as we got into our suits and flipped the switches to activate the hovertanks.

And then we moved out, hovering over the sandscape.

"All right," said Kravshera. "Emerson, you and your troop have point. Shirogane, you will take flank."

We all moved in formation, heading towards the site of the enemy base. As we were heading there, I was thinking of the battle ahead. By now, the Ocean Patrol would have fired cruise missiles at the site. I hoped that by the time we got there, the enemy base would be a wreck and we would simply secure the area.

It was not to be.

"There is still fighting going on," said the colonel. "Stay alert, people!"

I could see smoke rising from the plateau straight ahead.

"Okay, team," said Jack. "I will go up there are spot the enemy positions. Avital, you will be at my side."

Jack ordered me to switch to guardian mode and prepare to fire on enemy position. "Copy," I replied to him. I pulled a lever and the hovertank switched to guardian mode. I saw some of the other hovertanks switch to guardian; it looks like a hovertank standing on two legs.

I saw Jack's and Sergeant Avital's hovertanks switch to battloid mode, resembling a suit of armor. They then went up the slope to the top of the plateau.

And I waited. My heart was racing. I knew what could happen to me, or Jack, or Sergeant Avital, or Colonel Kravshera.

"All right, I have the enemy sighted," said Jack. "Sending in the coordinates."

"Copy," I replied. I saw the coordinates on the main screen in my guardian's cockpit. I pressed some buttons and used the coordinates to aim the main cannon. I fired the main cannon. Jack relayed more coordinates, and I fired more and more shells.

"All right," said Colonel Kravshera. "Let's move in!"

I switched to battloid mode, and I leaped up the slope of the plateau using the battloid's powerful mechanical legs. I soon joined Jack and Sergeant Avital.

Even as the rest of the battalion was joining us, I could see the battle. The enemy suits of armor were already fighting with the Space Marines who had arrived first. I could see more wreckage of enemy positions that had been obliterated by us. The centerpiece of this battle was this alien ship, about the size of a big building. I could notice damage that was probably caused by missile strikes.

"Okay," said Jack. "Pick your targets and fire. Wing, Bakovic, make sure to watch for any enemy forces coming out of that ship."

And so we did. I saw two of the enemy armor go down. We continued to blast as many targets as we could. Move, aim, fire, and repeat. It was like a rhythm. We moved in closer, our eyes vigilant for any enemy stragglers.

"This sector is secure," I heard Lieutenant Shirogane say.

"There does not seem to be an enemy in sight," said Jack.

We all waited for about an hour. More reinforcements arrived.

"Okay, people," said Kravshera. "We can stand down now."

I looked at the enemy wreckage. Most of the enemy war machines were destroyed beyond recognition, their pieces scattered around this plateau-turned-battlefield like someone dumping a bunch of jigsaw pieces on a floor; I saw a few that were still in one piece.

I examined the wreckage of one of the enemy war machines.

There appeared to be a human being in what appeared to be the cockpit.

"You'd better see this," I said, transmitting the video feed from the battloid's camera.


	4. What the Enemy Is

I felt the ice-cold water as it poured against my skin, providing some relief from the Sahara Desert's hot air.

The battle was over, and my troop was relieved. The Air Force's Military Airlift Command had brought in more troops, equipment, and supplies, especially tanks of ice cold water in which we could cool off. They had also sent helicopters with red crosses to evacuate the wounded; I prayed to Jesus Christ to look out for the wounded warriors. VHT-1 Spartas, VF-8 Logan, and VF-11 Thunderbolt battloids all stood guard on watch for enemy reinforcements. The sun set to the west.

"Are you staring, sir?" asked Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital.

She was eye-catching, considering that she was wearing a black tank top along with her MARPAT pants. "You do stand out, Sergeant," I said.

"I would strongly advise you refrain from touching, Lieutenant," she replied.

I understood her. Fraternization between officers and enlistees was not allowed.

And then some more ladies approached, all wearing nothing but tank tops and pants. I recognized Lieutenant Nina Washington and Lieutenant Shelby Porter among them.

"Nina," said Jack. "Great too see that you are all right."

"You too, Jack," replied Nina. "Of course, I did provide the air support you needed."

"We were fine ourselves."

I saw that Shelby was looking really red, like a ruby.

"You look like a boiled lobster, girl," I said.

"I forgot to pack sunscreen," she replied.

"Porter, you would forget your veritech if someone like me was not looking out for you," said Nina.

"I hope they have something good for dinner, like pot roast," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

We all laughed. Army food out in the field was not exactly gourmet.

In any event, they fed us rations, which was meat and boiled vegetables in some spicy sauce. Not as good as the food served in Burger King; it did sate our hunger.

Shelby sat across from me under the mess tent. I told her briefly about what it was like growing up in Jamaica, the weather, the fact that the primary industry was tourism from America and Europe.

"I like flying," she said. "I remember hearing about the stories of pilots who flew in the Robotech War. I'm glad I was able to become a pilot."

"Even though you could be hurt or killed in combat?"

She did not answer; she just stuck her fork into her aluminum ration container and ate a small bite-sized chunk of beef.

I started thinking about what I saw. Those machines were not robots, but vehicles driven by people. I started wondering what those people were like. What lives did they have at home? What were they told about us?

"You okay?" she asked.

"It was eventful," I said. I looked as the sky got darker and darker, the blue turning to lavender.

Soon afterward, the wind started blowing desert sand into the base camp. It was really inconvenient having all that sand blow in. Fortunately, we had shelter.

The alien ship that served as their forward operating base was now our shelter from the Sahara sandstorm. Cots were set up inside the cavernous space, which was probably used to storing the enemy war machines. It was convenient, as the interior was cooler, in addition to protecting us from the sand-bearing winds.

"That sandstorm is gonna do a number on our hovertanks," said Private First Class Glenn La Belle.

"Sergeant Avital can have you clean the sand out of the hovertanks," I replied.

"Sir?"

"Don't worry, La Belle," said Avital. "I would not have you do that if I didn't believe in you."

As I lay on the cot, I started thinking about what I saw. There were people operating those things on the inside. Every time I was destroying those war machines, I was killing people. Did they wake up in the morning, expecting this to be their last day in this physical Universe? I soon drifted off to sleep.

Ooooooooo

It was already getting warm by morning of the next day. Once again, we had breakfast rations, which was basically scrambled eggs and hash-browned potatoes. The soldiers, marines, and airmen who had the graveyard shift joined us, hoping to have a breakfast before going to sleep.

"That sandstorm sure did a number," said Mike. Some of our soldiers were already checking the hovertanks for sand.

"I wonder what the plan is," I said.

"Simple," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. "We stay here until we are sent back to base."

"And that video feed, sir?" I asked.

"It was already forwarded to Southern Cross Army headquarters," said Kravshera.

It was a few hours later that Colonel Kravshera summoned me to the command Quonset hut, which was located near the alien ship. I could feel the air inside was cooler, and hear the hum of an air conditioner.

"We have a live video feed with HQ ArmySoCross," said a corporal.

An image of a black-haired man in his forties appeared; I recognized him from news reports as Lieutenant General Rolf Emerson, commander of the U.N. Army's Southern Cross Field Army.

"General," said a colonel who was the senior officer here.

"How is it going over there?" asked the general.

"Hot, sir. Very hot."

"I understand the 6th battalion sighted one of the enemy troops."

"Yes, sir," replied Colonel Kravshera.

"I was the one who captured the video feed of the enemy pilot, sir," I said.

"We also found bodies inside the alien craft," said the colonel in charge in the operation. "We won a victory, but we both know this war will not be won until the Spacy crushes the enemy fleet and then attacks whatever rock they came from."

"We'll have the bodies transported to Monument City for study," said General Emerson. "And we will send a scientific team to examine the alien spacecraft. Now back to your posts."

The video feed was then cut off.

It was the next day that our battalion was sent home. On the way, I kept thinking about the ramifications of what we were doing. Did the enemy have the same level of camaderie among themselves that we did?

We felt the air get cooler as we crossed to the other side of the Atlas Mountains, where breezes from the Mediterranean Sea moderated the weather.

I was relieved to see the base again, with the battalion headquarters, the guardhouses, the officers' mess, and the men's BOQ that was still under construction. I was even glad to see the Quonset hut that was serving as the temporary men's BOQ. I looked and saw the enlistees get out of the truck, the expression on their faces revealing their gladness of being back on base.

And then Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon had them unpack everything.

We settled into the usual routine of staying prepared and drilling. But the knowledge I recently got kept me thinking. I even had some trouble sleeping more than the others in the Quonset hut.

I spoke to Sergeant Avital about it.

"The best person who can help you is Master Sergeant Cabon," she said. "I have known him for eleven years, and he had served as a mentor to me."

"He must be very busy."

"I can arrange an appointment with him for you, sir," she said. "He'll make time for you if I ask for it."

And so he did.

I noticed he had a corner office, and it was larger than Lieutenant Jack Emerson's "office"; it revealed how important the master sergeant was to the battalion. It has a wooden desk as its centerpiece, a bookcase, and some pictures hanging on the wall, as well as a steel filing cabinet.

"Sergeant Avital asked me to meet you, sir," he said, sitting in the leather chair. The master sergeant was a tall, olive-skinned man with close-cropped black hair. He was dressed in a Class "C" uniform, the uniform worn on base during warm weather. He spoke with this accent indicating that he was from South America. "Please be quick, Lieutenant, I have important things to do."

"I just learned we were killing people, Master Sergeant," I said.

"And you had no idea that the enemy was people?" he asked.

"Until I saw them, I did not think about it when I was fighting the enemy. Now it is all I think about."

"Look at these ribbons, sir," he said.

I looked at the ribbons, which represented his medals. I recognized the Distinguished Service Medal and the Titanium Medal of Valor among them.

"You are well-decorated, Master Sergeant," I said.

"This medal here was for my participation in the campaign against renegade Zentraedi," he said. "I enlisted in the Army after the end of the First Robotech War. There were still many Zentraedi who wanted to continue fighting even after their Supreme Commander ordered them to stand down. I remember the first time I was in combat. I knew we were killing people, and after that first time I kept thinking about it. Unfortunately, it gets easier. If I may ask, sir, why did you join?"

"I wanted an exciting and fulfilling career," I said. "The only careers in Jamaica are waiting on tables with tourists from America or Europe, or farming and fishing."

"It can be exciting at times, sir," he said. "And it can be dull, like it was when we were in the desert a few days ago after the battle. And now you know the toll a military career can take. I can't say for sure that you made the wrong career choice, Lieutenant. Only you can observe whether this was right for you. As for having to kill people, it is a burden we chose to bear, and bear it we must. Let's be strong, sir, and hope this war will end. And never forget what we are fighting for. Now please excuse me."

"Thank you, Master Sergeant," I said, walking away from his office. Along the way, I saw Colonel Kravshera.

"As you were, Lieutenant," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

Oooooo

A few days later, I had the graveyard shift in the battalion office. The battalion was active 24/7, which meant an officer had to be in charge at all times, and it was my turn. I drank a cup of coffee that had been imported from Ghana. While I would rather have been asleep, my surroundings were more comfortable than the men's temporary BOQ. All of us were clad in the more comfortable BDU's, as it was Army custom to reserve the service uniforms for day wear on base.

Staff Sergeant Wing called for me and Jack, who was the officer in charge of the battalion this evening.

"A couple of soldiers from the 18th troop were pulled over by the police in Tangier," said the staff sergeant. "Sergeant Bakovic was arrested, sirs."

"You check it out," Jack said to me.

And so I did.

I ordered Private La Belle to drive me to the police station in Tangier; I rode in this green Toyota Avalon that the Army used for a staff car.

"Well, sir, at least this breaks the monotony," said La Belle as he drove on the road leading to downtown Tangier. Looking through the windshield, I can see the streetlights as well as the headlights of cars traveling in the other direction.

It was a few minutes after we left the base that we arrived in downtown Tangier. La Belle was looking for a place to park the car near Tangier's police headquarters.

"I can park here, sir," said the private, pulling up to the curb. I could see the entrance to the Tangier Police Headquarters. It has a set of concrete steps leading up to a row of glass doors. The whole place was well-lit. I saw a uniformed man walk down the steps.

"Stand guard here," I said. "Wait for my return."

"Yes, sir," replied La Belle.

I walked up the steps into the lobby of the police headquarters. It looked like a typical lobby of a police headquarters, with a desk staffed by police officers, wooden benches, a clock mounted on the wall. Overhead, a ceiling fan was spinning slowly. Some of the police officers in their blue uniforms turned their attention to me, as I was dressed in MARPAT camouflage.

A short, dark haired lady in a police uniform approached me. "Sergeant Al Badri," she introduced herself. "I am a translator."

I introduced myself.

"A few of your soldiers already gave statements. Your Sergeant Bakovic is in a holding cell in the headquarters."

"You speak good English," I noted.

"Yes. I was in your United Nations Army's military police," she said. "I joined the Tangier police after my discharge."

Some young men entered the lobby.

"Sir," they said upon seeing me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We were going back to base, with Sergeant Bakovic behind the wheel, sir," said one of the men. "He pulled over when we saw the blue and red lights, and they arrested him for drunk driving."

"I want official reports from you," I said. "This night."

And so I interviewed each soldier alone in a room the local police provided for me. Corporal Shays, Private Nguyen, Private Pacquaio, and Private Cassari all agreed that they had been drinking, and that Bakovic was arrested for drunk driving. They did not tell _exactly_ the same story; their stories did not contradict.

Sergeant Al Badri approached me. "We'll keep Bakovic overnight," she said. "We will notify the local prosecutor of this."

"We will also need copies of your police report," I said.

"Sure."

I looked at the four soldiers who rode with Sergeant Bakovic. "You four with me," I said. "Tomorrow at 0900, you will report to the troop office. If you are late, you will be in trouble."

"Yes, sir," they all replied.

And so we returned to base.

Ooooooo

The next day, Sergeant Bakovic was in the troop office. Jack ordered everyone except me, Mike, Sergeant Avital, and Bakovic to leave the office. Jack sat behind a desk while Bakovic stood at attention.

"Were you driving drunk, Sergeant Bakovic?" asked Jack.

"I had a few drinks and I was driving; I did not feel drunk, sir," he said.

"The police report says your blood alcohol level was 0.18. That is above the legal limit, Sergeant. You do realize what trouble you are in, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are subject to prosecution under Moroccan law as well as the UEF Criminal Articles."

"Don't we have immunity, sir?"

"Not under our SOF with the Kingdom of Morocco. You can be demobilized and turned over to them for prosecution."

"Are you going to let that happen?"

"That depends, Sergeant. Our SOF requires extradition if they can make a reasonable case, and with this report, they can. In the meantime, I am signing an order convening a summary court-martial."

"A summary court-martial, sir?"

"Yes, for violation of Section 1634 of the UEF Act," said Jack. He looked through some notes. "You will not be entitled to counsel, though you may hire counsel at your own expense. You have the right to dismiss the summary court-martial. You are also notified that if you dismiss the summary court-martial, a special or general court-martial may be convened instead." Jack signed a piece of paper. "Follow me." He led the sergeant to one of the cubicles. "From 0900 to 1700, starting today, this will be your duty station. You will not leave unless authorized by any of us here, or if you are required to appear before your court-martial. I will not tolerate you leaving your post without authorization."

"Yes, sir."

"To your post, Sergeant Bakovic."

Sergeant Bakovic sat down.

"Come with me," Jack said to me.

I followed him out to the outer stairwell. "When you advance in rank," said the lieutenant, "You will have to deal with disciplinary issues. You will have to judge whether to do a 1550, convene a court-martial, or kick it up the chain of command. I figured it was best for Sergeant Bakovic to be court-martialed."

I looked out. There were a few clouds in a sky, and soldiers on the streets running errands. "I think I could do it, sir," I said.

Later that day, we saw a news report on a Sony plasma television in the officers' mess. A big bald man whom I recognized as United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard stood behind a podium, flanked by generals and admirals of the UEF component services.

"Good morning," said the supreme commander. "Last evening, the Spacy's First Fleet, assisted by air combat wings from the Air Force and Space Marines, launched a major offensive against the enemy. We expect this major offensive to be a huge step towards crushing the enemy fleet around Earth. We did suffer some losses. I ask everyone on Earth to pray for the families of those killed in this action."

I put down my slice of pork chop. I had no idea that it happened; the battalion was not even put on alert.

"Maybe this war will be over soon," said Mike.

"Too bad we won't be part of the action," said Lieutenant Shirogane.

"We all know the battle for Earth will be decided by the Spacy and Air Force," said Jack. "Maybe our division will be placed under REFCOM and we will have to land on the enemy's home world."

Just then a reporter asked, "Have the Expeditionary Forces found the home world of the enemy yet?"

"They have not identified the enemy's home base at this time," said Leonard. "All we know is that the fall of the Zentraedi has led to splinter factions fighting over the power vacuum that has existed for the past eighteen years. Only by taking the fight to the enemy's home, cutting them off from their supplies, can we win this war."

"Sir," asked another reporter, "what about recalling the fleet for a massive attack against the enemy here, to secure Earth?"

"That is a policy under consideration," said Leonard. "I will consult with the service chiefs and Admiral Breetai at REFCOM on this issue. Ultimately, the decision rests with Secretary General Moran. Thank you. Please submit further questions to my office in writing."

"He doesn't seem to be a very warm person," I said.

"I've met the supreme commander," said Jack. "He's a sledgehammer in human form. A very _good_ sledgehammer, I will admit."

"I hope we have other tools than a sledgehammer," said Mike. "If the enemy has a better sledgehammer…"


	5. Monument City

There was tension in the background as we did our daily routine. Even as we did maintenance on the VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks and did inventory on our supplies and equipment, the last space offensive was still in memory. I had heard from Lieutenant Jack Emerson that Sergeant Bakovic plead guilty; he would serve thirty days in the stockade and then be transferred to another unit after his sentence is finished. We did not know when the final assault will take place, or if the enemy will counterattack.

There was still time for other things besides the military. I had made a date with Melissa Sharp to take a tour bus to a Berber town in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. The base offered discounted tickets to your buses and other events in the area. The bus ride to the town took a few hours along a four-lane highway, with trees to either side. The town itself had souvenir shops and cafes and other businesses. Street vendors peddled their wares to tourists who were dressed in various types of outfits.

As I sat in a sidewalk café with Melissa, sipping on a Coke, the war above and on the ground seemed distant. Indeed, for a while we could pretend that there was no war.

But not for long.

After returning to base, I saw that the men's BOQ was open. The building looked much the same as it did before it blew up; the one big difference was that the pain was brand new and the windows were spotless.

"We get to sleep on real beds again," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"And to think I was gonna invite you to sleep over at the women's BOQ," Melissa said to me.

We approached the entrance to the BOQ.

"Only male officers allowed here unless you have official business, madam," said this freckle-faced private.

"I will see you tomorrow," Melissa said to me.

I went inside, and there was a miniature party going on in the lounge, with men dressed either in casual clothes or MARPAT camouflage talking to one another. On a table were a bag of Lay's potato chips, two one-liter bottles of Coca-cola, and some plastic cups. Music was playing from a stereo system, and a Sony color television was on, its sound muted.

"Better not let this party get too wild," said one of the men, holding a plastic cup, "or I'd have to throw you in the stockade." I recognized him as an officer with the base's military police.

"Don't worry," said Jack. "We won't get too wild. Maybe as wild as Mardi Gras, but not too wild."

Mike led me to my room. It looked the same as my old room here, with a bed and a dresser and a lamp. I could look out the window to the pavilion in the center of the BOQ. At least I can have my own room, instead of sleeping in a Quonset hut with fifty other guys. I put my duffel bag on the carpeted floor and I lay on the bed.

"Don't get too comfortable," said Mike. "There's still a party going on."

And so I went down to the party. We were all talking about what men do and say.

"Here's to sleeping in a real room again," said Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane, holding up a plastic cup.

"Cheers," we said.

The party continued for the rest of the day, with us either sitting in the lounge, or playing pool or foosball in the den, or even doing barbecues at the central pavilion. At the end, it was time to sleep.

I had my share of partying back when I lived in Jamaica, but this is the first time I remember having a party just to celebrate having a roof over our heads. I slept on my bed, the mattress springs supporting me.

The next morning, Jack woke me up.

"We have orders to mobilize," he said. "Get dressed."

And so we went to the parade grade and all assembled in formation, with Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera, Major Yoon, and Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon facing us.

"All right, Micronians," said Kravshera. "I know it is still early, and most of you haven't had breakfast. Just this morning, I have received orders that our battalion is to be deployed overseas in North America, near Monument City. An enemy ship crashed nearby and we are to be part of the perimeter team. The Air Force's 8th Transport Wing is preparing to transport us and other units there. Everyone prepare for immediate deployment. We will depart as soon as everyone is ready"

And so we did. We all made sure that our hovertanks, equipment, ammunition, and supplies were packed, with Master Sergeant Cabon supervising the enlistees. We also made sure that our duffel bags were packed with uniforms and other essentials. The hovertanks were loaded onto trailers, and our supplies, ammunition, and equipment were loaded onto other trucks.

"I wonder what the delay is," I said, sitting in the back of a truck. "We're mostly done."

"All of the sergeants have to double check the work," said Mike. "And we have to wait on Military Airlift Command to get us across the ocean."

And so we did. I heard the truck's engine start, and felt its motion along the street.

"They were fast," said Jack.

"Thank Master Sergeant Cabon and the other sergeants for pushing the enlistees," said Mike.

The ride took about an hour; I knew that the trucks would go through the road tunnel linking Spain and Morocco. We finally got off at this air base in Spain. The trucks were parked on the concrete taxiways. There were some hangars where aircraft was stored, as well as a control tower. Also parked on the taxiway were a U.N. Air Force C-130 Hercules and an Air Force Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle, which was much bigger than the Hercules and was used to transport mecha. Above us, there were only a few clouds in the sky. I noted there were over hundreds of airmen running around doing errands.

We immediately boarded the Hercules; I strapped myself in. I glanced at Colonel Kravshera and Major Yoon.

"We'll have breakfast bars on the plane," said Yoon.

The rear entrance to the plane was closed and secured.

"Okay people," I heard the Air Force pilot say over the intercom. "Make sure you are all strapped in. We are preparing for imminent departure."

About an hour later, we departed; I felt the plane rumble along the runway and then felt the rumbling stop as the plane lifted into the air.

I unwrapped the breakfast bar, which was basically a granola bar.

"We'll get more food once we get to the camp site," said Jack.

Oooooooo

A few hours later, the Air Force pilot told us to strap ourselves in again, as we were about to land. I felt the plane touch down about half an hour after he made his announcement. The Lockheed C-130 Hercules taxied for a bit before stopping.

"Welcome to Monument City," said the pilot.

The rear hatch was opened, and we all stepped out with our duffel bags in tow. The weather was sure different; I could feel it was much cooler than it was in Morocco or Spain. The sky above was concealed in a layer of gray clouds. Around me, I saw what I would expect at a U.N. air base- hangars, a control tower, and other buildings. There was a lot of aircraft parked on the taxiways, including the Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle that transported our VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks. Another plane landed on the runway.

"All right, people," said the colonel. "Let's get ourselves ready for transport to the camp site."

It took less than an hour for the hovertanks, supplies, and equipment to be loaded onto the trailers. After everytjhing was loaded, we boarded the trucks and rode to the camp site.

A few minutes later, we all got out.

The centerpiece of the campsite was this huge spaceship sitting on the ground. It was big, much bigger than a sports stadium. It looked as if it could fit the entire population of Jamaica. Already, various types of mecha form a perimeter around the ship. Tents and Quonset huts were set up for the troops, who were drawn from the Army, Air Force, Spacy, and Space Marines. Many of the troops had already taken posts, and others were just arriving in trucks.

As soon we got off, we- or rather junior enlistees under the supervision of Master Sergeant Cabon- started unloading the hovertanks, equipment, and supplies in our battalion. After that, we had to take inventory of everything, in which I had to help. It was tedious, but less so than standing around.

"So when do we get to eat?" asks a private in our battalion.

An Army sergeant informed us where we would sleep. Once again, we would sleep in a Quonset hut.

"At least you will get a chance to sleep in a hut," I said to this lady officer in our battalion; I knew her as Lieutenant Tran.

I placed my duffel bag next to the cot inside the Quonset hut that was reserved for junior male officers in our unit; it looked just like any Quonset hut.

"Don't get too comfortable," said Major Yoon. "We're not here on vacation."

And so we were busy that first hour or so, organizing watches and creating duty schedules.

"It's chow time, people," said Jack.

And so we ate inside another Quonset hut that served as the officers' field mess. Hundreds of officers in MARPAT camouflage were inside, sitting on benches or getting food from the cooks. Pasta with marinara sauce was served. It was cheap and filling, the kind of meal one would eat out on the field- if one were lucky.

"A lot of people will be asking for liberty passes," said Mike.

"Yeah," I said. "Monument City has a lot more to offer than the middle of that desert." I can still remember that mission- the heat, the dryness, and the revelation about the enemy.

"We'll get the afternoon off," said Jack. "Major Yoon told us our squadron has the graveyard shift."

"Jack, it's you," I hard a female voice say.

I looked and saw this young lady with short blond hair. The two silver bars on her collar indicated that she was a first lieutenant like Jack.

"Dana," said Jack, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I knew you would come."

"I'm assigned near Monument City," said Dana. "And then there was this huge spaceship that crashed near there- which my squadron and I shot down."

I looked at her. "You shot down this ship?"

"Yes," she said. "I assume you know Jack."

I introduced myself. "I am third in line of command for his squadron," I said.

"First Lieutenant Dana Sterling of the 15th ATAC squadron. I knew Jack since before joining the Army."

"You did?"

"Yeah, after my parents were deployed on the Pioneer mission, I was sent to live with General Emerson- that's Jack's dad."

"That's right," said Jack. "And we have stories to tell."

"What kind of stories?" asked Mike. "Lieutenant Michael Meyers, Jack's second in command. You can call me Mike, _anytime_."

"I will remember that, Lieutenant Meyers," replied Dana.

"Nina," said Jack. I looked and saw Lieutenant Nina Washington, carrying a plastic cup and dressed in MARPAT camouflage.

Nina put the cup down on the table and placed her arms around Jack's waist. "How are you doing, ground pounder?"

"Who is your lady friend, Jack?" asked Dana.

"Are you jealous?" asked Nina.

"Oh, it's nothing like that," said Jack. "Dana is almost like a sister to me. It would be incestuous for me to …you know."

"I am Lieutenant Nina Washington, Thunderbolt pilot and a flight leader," said Nina.

Dana introduced herself. "My parents were pilots. They're veterans of the first Robotech War."

"I wonder why you never followed in their footsteps," said Nina.

"Flying never interested me."

"My daddy was a pilot in the First Robotech War and the Global Civil War before that," said Nina. "He's now the Air Force's Chief of Staff. So your parents were military. It must have been interesting, girl, having to move from base to base."

As Nina spoke with Dana Sterling, Shelby Porter sat down next to me.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" she asked.

I looked at her; she had put a tray with a plate, a cup, and food and drink on the table. "Uh, no," I replied. "Go right ahead."

"How have you been doing?" she asked.

"They rebuilt the men's BOQ. I got to sleep there for one night before we were deployed here. And you."

"At least I got to fly my Thunderbolt all the way here. We did have to wait until our equipment and supplies were brought in. So you are from Jamaica, right?"

"Right."

"Tell me all about Jamaica. It must be a wonderful place."

I told her about Jamaica. My family was relatively well off due to being in the tourist industry. "But there are many people who eke a living scratching dirt or catching fish," I said. "If you want a high paying waiter job, you have to be well-connected like my dad and brother."

"That's terrible."

I began thinking of home. I remembered that the island imported a lot of food from overseas due to the wealth that came in from tourism. "Maybe if we had factories like Japan." I continued eating my meal.

"After we return from here, maybe we can go out," said Shelby. "There's a great restaurant a mile from the air base I'm stationed at."

"I don't know," I said. I was thinking of Melissa Sharp back on the base. She was a great lady, but to just give my full heart to her at this stage? Should I not at least date other women in case things do not work out?

That evening, I spoke with Mike just outside our temporary quarters.

"Have you told Melissa how you feel about her?" he asked.

"I like her," I said. "And it would be great if she and I could be in a relationship. But to love her now? I don't want to love someone completely only to find out we can only be friends."

Oooooooo

So much was on my mind during breakfast- wondering if I should go all in with Melissa, the residual stress from combat.

"Finish your breakfast," Colonel Kravshera said to me. "We have been summoned to Southern Cross Headquarters in Monument City."

"We're all going, sir?" I asked.

"Just you, me, Cabon, Emerson, and Avital. Put on your Class "A's"".

And so I did. It was always important to bring all uniforms with me to a camp site. A green Toyota Avalon staff car awaited us. I got in along with Jack, Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital, and Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon. An Army corporal was behind the wheel.

The car moved along a highway flanked by pine trees. The scenery seemed so peaceful, especially after the alien ship disappeared from view.

"Great place," said Jack. "Dad used to take us- me, Dana, and this other kid named Bowie- out camping.

The car spoon reached a checkpoint, which had several booths. A roof bearing the name "Monument City" was located on top. Monument City was considered to be United Nations soil, so there were checkpoints for people entering from Canada. We were quickly waved in, as we were in a military vehicle.

We were on this elevated highway. I could see all sorts of buildings. After a few minutes, we took an exit to the Citadel.

The Citadel was a complex of buildings in Monument City, all owned by the United Earth Forces. The headquarters for the United Earth Forces was inside the tallest building in the complex. The Citadel also contained headquarters for other units like the Military District of Monument City, the Space Marine Barracks, the Headquarters of the Robotech Defense Forces Command, the Headquarters of the First Spacy Fleet, and the Headquarters of the Southern Cross Army, the field army that supports the Robotech Defense Forces Command.

The car entered through the main gate, with a Space Marine MP waving us in. I could see people in different types of uniforms walking along the sidewalk. We passed an Army transport truck going in the opposite direction.

"Here we are, sirs," said the corporal.

Southern Cross Army Headquarters was located in this huge concrete building. A concrete path led from the street to the front entrance. We went through the glass doors of the front entrance. On the other side of the front entrance, the main lobby had some chairs, a wooden table, and a reception desk staffed by sergeants and corporals.

"Follow me," said the colonel.

So we did. We walked along the corridors, with several enlistees briefly stopping, and the colonel waving them ahead. We then entered this room. There were no tables or chairs inside. Curtains adorned a window with a view of the UEF Headquarters.

Then some people in Class "A" uniforms entered the room. We all stood at attention. I recognized one of them- a big bald man who towered over us; he was United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard. A slimmer, shorter dark-haired man and this black man accompanied him. The black man was a command sergeant major, and the other man was Lieutenant General Rolf Emerson.

"General Emerson, if you will," said Leonard.

"Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital," said the general, "due to your conspicuous bravery, it is my honor to award you with the Titanium Medal of Valor."

Sergeant Avital walked up and received a medal from General Emerson. "I am honored, sir," she said.

Leonard looked at a piece a paper. "I understand the bravery in action was getting out of your battloid to save the life of an officer," he said.

"It was him, sir," she said, pointing at me.

Supreme Commander Leonard looked at me. "Try not to get wounded," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"I have other business to attend to now. As you were."

"How would you all like to have dinner before going back to camp?" asked General Emerson.

Oooooooo

Dinner was what the Army called lunch. We all sat at this pizza place located in the Citadel's food court. We all ordered pizza and breadsticks. I myself had a Hawaiian style pizza, which had pineapple chunks and ham. I also ordered Coke to wash it down. I would not get to eat like this at the officers' field mess, and I did not know how long I would be deployed at the camp site. Such deployments can last months, from what I had heard.

"I should thank you for this good food, sir," said Master Sergeant Cabon.

"It is a nice treat for a warrior," said Colonel Kravshera. He looked to me. "Perhaps you should put yourself in danger so we can get this treatment."

"I will consider it," I said.

"At least we got that enemy mothership down," said Jack. "That is definitely something."

"Maybe," said the general. "It is definitely a blow for the enemy."

"Well, Dad, we really should recall the fleet and have them smash the enemy."

"I am not too sure about that," said General Emerson. "There are other threats besides the enemy in orbit. The galaxy has become a more dangerous place since the end of the last Robotech War."

"Indeed," said Kravshera. "The Zentraedi kept the peace. But with their numbers severely reduced, others are trying to fill in the power vacuum."

"Still, those enemy ships can be taken down," said Jack. "Dana and her team did it."

"They managed to exploit a weakness," said the general. "And I doubt we can rely on that same weakness over and over again. We won't be able to defeat them using frontal assaults. And that is what worries me."

"How so?" asked Sergeant Avital.

"Supreme Commander Leonard spent the formative years of his military career poking out the Zentraedi insurgency in South America about fifteen years ago, back when Southern Cross was only a division. I served with him in that theater. Basically, scouts would find where the enemy is, and then Leonard and his regiment would go in full force to crush them. We were effective. But this time it is different. We can not crush the enemy the way we crushed the renegade Zentraedi."

"So how do we defeat them?" I asked.

"We'll have to outmaneuver them," said the general. "Try to trap them. I've done that with the renegade Zentraedi a couple of times back then."

And so we finished our meal.

"I have business to attend to," said General Emerson. "Back to your posts."

"Yes, sir," we all replied.

We rode in the Toyota Avalon back to the base camp.

"Talking about the renegade Zentraedi reminded me of my early years in the Army," said Cabon. "I was a corporal then, and I drove those old veritech battle tanks. I could still remember having to stay in camp for months. It was mostly boring, but there were a few exciting times. Too bad not everyone I knew survived the excitement."

We soon returned to the camp site. I noticed that there was even more bustling activity than usual.

A corporal ran to the car. "Sir, there is something going on," he said to Colonel Kravshera. "Everyone is to take battle stations."

"All right, Micronians!" yelled Kravshera. "Suit up and prepare for battle!"

And so we did.


	6. Metal Fire

I immediately suited up and got into my VHT-1 Spartas hovertank. I pressed the buttons to start the engines. We had to be ready to go.

"Explain the situation," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera.

"Colonel, a hovertank troop went into the ship to do recon," said Major Yoon. "If we do not hear from them in six hours, or they call for backup, we go in."

"And our battalion is on standby to go into the ship?"

"Yes, sir."

I looked at the huge alien ship which was the centerpiece of the camp site. It was massive, bigger than our largest ships. "Has anyone come outside?" I asked.

"No, Lieutenant," said Major Yoon.

"Everyone remain on standby," said Colonel Kravshera.

And so we did. As we watched for anything to come out of the ship, I started thinking. About if I would have to kill people again, I tried to not think about that, and then started thinking about the ladies. Melissa Sharp, Shelby Porter. I would even consider Rebekah Avital even though she was a decade older than me, were it not for the fact that she was an enlistee. And then I started thinking about the ladies back home in Jamaica.

And we kept standing watch, all of us. It wasn't a pleasant duty, on par with scrubbing latrines. I could still remember by days in Basic when I had to do the dirty work. Standby was just boring, and even officers had to stand by sometimes.

"Could we get any relief?" asked Private First Class Glenn La Belle.

"We wait until we are relieved, Private," replied Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital. "Just keep watch."

And we kept watching that alien ship. It was a novelty at first, a huge alien spaceship from God knows where, but it got boring pretty fast just watching it. Because just standing here keeps my mind wandering, and memories surface that I would rather not indulge.

I could hear some chatter, like how we are still in contact with the infiltration team.

"You know what's amazing?" asked Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane. "They sent in an Army squad, not a Space Marine squad. You'd think the Marines would be the first to bust into an alien vessel."

"Yeah," said someone else. "Our job is to take ground so you people can move in, and cover your asses when you retreat. We Space Marines are the head of the spear, you know."

"Quiet," said a colonel. "We don't want to break concentration."

I did enjoy the chatter. It was one thing to distract me from thinking about other things. I hated thinking about things. My mind rambles on and on and on when nothing is going on.

"We are receiving a call for backup from the infiltration team," the colonel said a few hours later. "All battalions and squadrons get ready."

"Okay, team," said Colonel Kravshera. "Arm your weapons and get ready for battle."

And so I did, switching the master arm switch to "on". We made sure to cover every exit.

"The infiltration team is out!" someone yelled.

"They're all accounted for!"

"Do we go in?" asked Colonel Kravshera.

"Negative," said a higher-ranking colonel. "We maintain the siege until RDFCOM orders us in."

"We copy," replied Kravshera.

Ooooooo

I washed my hands at the hand-washing station after using the officers' latrine. I was grateful that the Army kept us supplied with clean water; I had learned from history that disease can ravage troops in the field as much as combat can.

I saw Private La Belle standing near the latrines.

"This is officer country, Private," I said.

"I was here on official business, sir," he said. "I was restocking the toilet paper."

"Finish what you are doing and get back to your post."

"Yes, sir."

Things have wound down a bit after the infiltration team escaped the enemy ship. From what Lieutenant Jack Emerson told me, Lieutenant Dana Sterling led the infiltration into the ship, the same lieutenant whose team shot down the ship. We were once again doing the usual routine of keeping the campsite secure and maintained. More trucks moved in to bring supplies from supply bases.

"I wonder when the enemy will surrender," I later said, eating dinner, which was tacos for me.

"I don't know," said Jack. "I heard we were broadcasting messages in the Zentraedi language."

"Zentraedi?" asked Lieutenant Mike Meyers.

"The Zentraedi kept the peace in the galaxy before the Robotech War," said Jack. "Command figures that every spacefaring power would know their language."

"I wonder what space travel is like," I said.

"Basically you are inside this small box," said Mike. "I remember taking the Air Force transport ship from Glorie to Earth."

"And why did you decide to come over to Earth?"

"Glorie colony is only a town and a bunch of farms," answered Mike. "The only thing to actually see is the UEF base. Sure, we get people from Earth who want to observe live scalies- that is what we call the native people of Glorie- but other than that there is no excitement. Even that new colony in Tirol has more people, since there were cities there before we arrived."

"Well, you guys are pioneers," said Jack. "It takes time to build things. Plus the colonists there have to make more babies for future generations."

"That's a popular pastime there," said Mike.

"All combat units scramble," I heard a voice say. "There is an enemy attack on Monument City and reinforcements are being ordered."

"Time for us to go," said Jack.

And so we did. I suited up, started up my VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertank, and moved out with the rest of the battalion as we all traveled on the highway leading to Monument City.

"Everyone stay alert," said Colonel Kravshera.

Ahead, I could see smoke rising. There was no doubt a battle was going on. We soon reached the city itself.

"Follow me," said Jack.

The hovertanks in my troop followed Jack's Spartas. I barely paid attention to the buildings.

Jack then directed me to go down this street.

"Okay," I said. "Wing, La Belle, stay by my side. Ducasse, Hayase, protect our flank. Rear guard goes to Stabler. Switch to battloid and take position."

For the time being, I was in command of this small group. The street was quiet, lined with shops. Most of the people had taken shelter.

We were supposed to keep the enemy from using this route to attack the troop's main force.

The quietness was interrupted when the enemy mecha fired upon us. We immediately took cover and returned fire, striking the enemy and destroying a few of the armored suit.

_Which were operated by people, _I thought for an instant.

More and more of them kept coming at us. We did everything we could to hold our position.

"There's too many of them," said Staff Sergeant Wing.

"We're pinned down here," I said. "We need fire support."

"I hear you," said Lieutenant Nina Washington. "I'll send someone over."

"Copy," I said.

We kept firing at the enemy from our hiding positions. More pieces of buildings fell on the asphalt street.

Then some of the enemy mecha was destroyed from above. A VF-11 veritech guardian flew in, and then the nose folded down as it transformed into battloid mode.

"Are you all right?" asked Lieutenant Shelby Porter, her battloid hovering.

"Thanks," I said.

"There is more of them coming in from the west."

And so we went in and took care of them, leaving only smoking husks.

"Everything looks clear," said La Belle, looking around.

"No enemy activity nearby," said Hayase.

"This is Cabon," said Master Sergeant Cabon. "We need some fire support."

"I'm here," I said.

"I'll transmit coordinates. We're under heavy fire."

"Copy," I said. I pulled a lever to transform into guardian mode, and the veritech shifted around to look like a hovertank with legs. "All right, cover me."

I received the coordinates on my targeting computer. I then fired several blasts.

"I'm going over there," said Shelby, transforming her veritech into guardian mode and flying off. "I think you hit them."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Colonel Kravshera.

"Shall we join you?" I asked.

"Negative," replied the colonel. "Hold your position."

And so we did. The battle raged on elsewhere. I could hear distant explosions.

We then got an order from RDFCOM to continue on; the enemy was apparently retreating. I hoped it was not another trick. We soon rejoined our battalion and other hovertank battalions. We could see an enemy transport ship fly towards the sky. We all fired at it, and our fighters chased after it, but the enemy transport escaped.

We stood by for a very long time.

"All right 6th Battalion," said Kravshera. "Return to the campsite. And then assemble in formation."

And so we did. It was dusk by the time we returned to the campsite. There was no word on the alien ship.

All of us assembled in formation by troop. I then noticed someone was missing.

"Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon was killed in action," said Colonel Kravshera.

We all felt sad.

Oooooooo

"There is neither rhyme nor reason for his death," said an Air Force chaplain dressed in MARPAT camouflage. "All we can do is remember his life and his dedication towards his country, family, and his Army."

The entire battalion attended a memorial service for Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon the following morning, after breakfast. I felt somber, even though I had not known the master sergeant well. I did remember the advice he gave me about dealing with the fact that I was killing people.

And now, those people had killed him.

People from the battalion staff, including Colonel Kravshera and Major Yoon, gave brief statements on how the master sergeant was helpful and how they were grateful that he was in our battalion.

I later went out, and saw Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital. Her face was in tears.

"I served with him for over ten years, on and off," she said, wiping her cheek with a tissue. "He was a mentor to me. He was hard on me back when I was still a buck private, but he had good reasons. And now….now he's dead."

"I appreciate the advice he gave me," I said.

"I served with him in the campaign against renegade Zentraedi in Afghanistan about seven years ago. That was my first experience in combat. He told me that he can rely on me, because he trained me. And I could rely on him."

"He trained you so that others can rely on you. Remember that."

"A third lieutenant giving advice to an executive sergeant?" she asked.

"Yeah, what would I know?" I asked.

"You gave good advice, sir," she said. "You are learning."

I knew there was work to do. I had to finish my after-action report and do a whole lot of other routine tasks.

And yet, even as I did my work, I knew that Tomas Cabon's death diminished the battalion.

Ooooooo

Jack, Mike, and I got liberty a few days later, along with many other troops. There was still much cleanup in Monument City over the battle with the enemy forces. It was hard to believe that we had been here for about a month now. I had wondered how things were going back in Gibraltar Base. And I wondered how Melissa was doing. She should be prepared for this sort of thing, as troops could be deployed anywhere at a moment's notice. Could Melissa have been deployed? Or transferred?

We went to this establishment that was in this part of the city that had avoided heavy damage. The inside had a piano and a bar and some tables for patrons. The whole place was dimly lit.

"These people are gouging us!" said Mike, looking at the prices that were printed on new paper.

"Not too many businesses open," said a waitress decked out in a blouse and miniskirt. "So many people want to come here; we raise prices to limit customers."

"Oh well," I said. "We haven't had much opportunity to spend money since we got deployed here."

"He's right," said Nina. She holds Jack's arm. "Come on, Jack."

So I spent about ten dollars on a cocktail, given to me by this blond-haired lady in a ponytail. I made sure to take a mental note of her. I could be transferred to a more permanent post in Monument City, and it was not like I had any commitments yet. This dark-haired dude was playing the piano.

"May I join you?" asked Shelby as she sat on the table.

"Sure," I said, seeing as she already sat down, a beer in her hand.

"What is going on?"

"Just relaxing I guess," I said, sipping the cocktail. "Our battalion master sergeant was killed in that battle here a few days ago."

"Oh," she said. "I thought flying would be some grand adventure. My squadron lost three pilots since this war started."

"I have learned a lot since joining the Army."

I saw Jack talking to the young man who was playing the piano.

"That was a nice song you played," Shelby said to him.

"Thank you," he said. "My name is Bowie."

"Shelby," she replied.

I introduced myself.

"I have known Bowie since I was a kid," said Jack. "Dana told me he was serving under her command as a hovertank driver."

"So you like singing and he plays the piano," I said. "Maybe you can play music together."

"The problem is that piano doesn't go well with gangsta rap."

"Bowie, meet my new lady Nina," said Jack.

"Hi," Bowie said to Nina.

"Hi there," said Nina.

I had barely noticed how far Jack got with Nina. Come to think of it, Jack sometimes spent weekends off the base.

"Is there a lady for you, Bowie?" asked Jack.

"Well, not really," replied the piano player. "There are some complications."

I could understand. After all, my experience with Melissa and Shelby was a demonstration.

"So where are you from?" I asked Shelby.

"Minnesota actually," said Shelby. "It's not too far from here- well, it is a lot closer than Spain is."

"What do you remember?" I asked.

"I remember how cold it was," said Shelby. "Sometimes we would get blizzards and get a whole lot of snow dumped on the ground."

"I had little experience with snow, growing up in Jamaica. I remember my dad taking us on a trip to Colorado once. That was the first time I saw snow. We were all bundled up tight, bundled even more than those suits we wear when driving the hovertanks."

"Did your family practice any of that voodoo stuff?"

"That's Haiti. You know, there is this Haitian dude in my troop, a Private Philip Ducasse. Maybe he can do some voodoo on the enemy."

"Excuse me," said Shelby as she stood up and joined the others in her squadron who came to this bar. I looked around and it was packed, with barely any room to move around. I leaned back and smiled, trying to look like I was relaxing, even though my mind was running on overdrive. It was always like this with huge dense crowds, with me barely even able to hear myself think.

"Pretty good business," said another waitress, a dark-haired lady with slanted eyes. "I'm gonna make a fortune tonight."

Perhaps she did.

Ooooooo

Having liberty was nice, as we went straight back into the routine of maintaining combat readiness in the campsite around the alien ship.

Excitement would soon come again. We once again were ordered to scramble. I suited up and started up my hovertank. I saw several of the veritech guardians take off and transform into fighter mode.

We all waited at the campsite.

"An enemy ship is approaching," I heard a voice say over the radio.

"Everyone get your weapons ready," said Colonel Kravshera.

I then saw the enemy vessel approach our position, already taking fire from our fighters and anti-aircraft artillery. We all took cover and fired on the enemy ship.

"Come on," said Mike. "Go down in flames."

It did not go down in flames. It picked up the enemy ship that had crashed here nearly a month ago and flew to the sky. We kept firing at it until we depleted our ammo. I saw the spaceships get smaller and smaller, hoping that they would disappear in an explosion, but they simply disappeared out of sight.

"Everyone stand down," I heard.

"Check for casualties," said Kravshera. "I expect full reports."

Ooooooo

Not long after the enemy ship escaped, we all packed up. All of us were ordered back to our respective home bases. We went back to the air base in Monument City, with a C-130 Hercules and a Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle waiting to take us home. It was a cloudy day, with a layer of clouds hiding the sky. I was reminded, once again, that Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon was no longer with us.

"You take care of yourself, Jack," said Lieutenant Dana Sterling as she hugged him.

"Don't get yourself killed, Dana," said Jack.

I looked and saw Executive Sergeant Avital.

"I'm not going with you, sir," she said.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I have orders from the colonel. I am to be a pallbearer for Master Sergeant Cabon's funeral in Chile. I should rejoin you in two days."

She saluted me, and I returned the salute. Soon we were on the plane back to Gibraltar Base.


	7. An Adventure Across the Strait

"All right, we are closing in," said Lieutenant Jack Emerson. "Stay in formation."

We were in the French countryside, responding to a request of reinforcements from the French government. I barely noticed the rolling green hills and the farms. To the distance, I could see smoke rising where the enemy was fighting the local forces.

"We're in position," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"The locals will be sending us coordinates," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. "Fire as soon as you receive the coordinates."

Soon enough, the locals gave us coordinates. I switched to guardian mode. Using the coordinates received from the French troops, I aimed the turret and opened fire. I looked around and our troop was opening fire.

"All right," said Jack. "Let's reposition ourselves and wait to deliver another salvo."

One important lesson when performing artillery operations is to assume that the enemy knows exactly where we are after we open fire, so we have to move. For a moment I wondered if we destroyed the enemy.

That was answered when enemy fire rained down on our former position.

"Everyone all right?" asked Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital.

"Copy," said Private First Class Glenn La Belle.

"We're receiving coordinates again," said Jack. "Transmitting to the targeting system."

And we fired another salvo. We moved to another position, and waited for further orders.

"Everyone move in," said Kravshera.

And so we did, moving towards the spot where the enemy had invaded. It was this French town and some of the buildings had been wrecked. I could see remains of the enemy mecha, which the Supreme Command called bioroids. French infantry soldiers were patrolling the streets, clutching their rifles. Civilians peeked out of the doors of buildings and a bomb shelter.

"It looks like we did a good job," said Major Yoon.

I looked up to the sky. I knew that we could not win this war unless we crush the enemy fleet above us.

"Can we get some leave?" asked Mike. "I heard the French countryside could be beautiful."

"If you like battlescapes," said Jack, noting the current scenery.

"You can visit France on your days off, Meyers," said Kravshera. "Which is _not_ today. Let's head back to base."

And so we did.

That evening, I was still finishing up my after-action report in the troop office. Private La Belle was assigned to the office for the graveyard shift.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?" he asked.

"See if there is paper in the printer," I said.

"Yes, sir," he said. He checked the printer and came back. "We have paper, sir."

I reread my report going over some editing. "And what are you up to?" I asked. "Everything going okay with your life, Private?"

"Aside from Executive Sergeant Avital making me work hard, sir?" replied La Belle. "I am getting married."

"You do not look that old," I said. I was surprised that a young fellow like him was getting married.

"Well, sir, my biggest worry is finding a place for my bride to live."

"She certainly won't fit in at the men's BEQ."

"I would like to have an apartment in base. It would be much easier than hunting for an apartment in Tangier, not to mention having to get a car and commuting."

"You can discuss this with Lieutenant Emerson and Sergeant Avital tomorrow," I said. "I'm sure you have floors to sweep."

His words reminded me of my situation. I did want to get married, and there were a few people I had met whom I would have married if I had the chance. And yet, considering marriage was too early. I should not imagine being married until I am sure it would happen. I wondered into what La Belle was getting himself in.

I did not want to think too deeply about this. It was ultimately counterproductive.

Oooooo

A few nights later, I had a date with Melissa Sharp since my return from Monument City. I briefly spoke to her when I got back, but then our scheduled conflicted. On one hand, it was nice for women to be able to live their own lives and have their own paths, and yet it can be inconvenient at times. We were in this Italian-Spanish-Lebanese fusion restaurant in Tangier. It was not very crowded, which added to the intimate atmosphere. The dim lighting came from candles and a few ceiling fixtures. The walls were decorated with pictures of various landscapes like ports and villages. The menu revealed how expensive the food was, with appetizers around ten dollars. I saw the owner of the restaurant, this old Nigerian dude, watching over the patrons.

"So how's it like, combat?" asked Melissa.

I stopped to think about my life, and how being in combat had changed it. "It is thrilling at times," I said. "I remember my first combat a few months ago. I also remember getting hurt- that is how I met you, recovering from an injury. I also know that some people don't come back. Our battalion just lost our master sergeant back when we were deployed in Monument City."

"I'm sorry," said Melissa. "I guess I should not bring it up."

"Well, your work is important even though you do not go out there. I mean, who is going to help us get back on duty whenever we stub our toes?"

She smiled. I suppose people could not help but talk about the war, since it was going on all over the world and there had been engagements with enemy ground forces all over the world. And people would naturally want to talk about the war with those who served in it, wanting to understand just a bit of what we go through. And yet, we also need our escapes from the stress of war life and combat, otherwise people go crazy.

"I wonder if that was what caused the Zentraedi uprisings a few years ago," I said. "All the stress they endured from being in combat all the time."

"PTSD," said Melissa. "Post traumatic stress disorder. A lot of combat veterans suffer it. I guess it wasn't such a huge problem for the Zentraedi before the end of the First Robotech War, as most of them usually did not live long enough. A lot of the Zentraedi immigrants form close-knit communities; there is one in Savannah in Georgia, and another one in Brooklyn in New York."

"And tell me more about Georgia," I said.

"Friendly people," she said. "It is the home of southern hospitality. My town has this café, which serves a great breakfast. I remember my days in the park with my mom, or hanging out with my girlfriends back home."

"And why did you join the Air Force?" I asked.

"I wanted to work in physical therapy, but getting the education and training was so expensive, not to mention trying to find a job afterward. The Air Force paid for my training and gave me a post. And I like my current post. Great weather, just a short flight to world tourist sites- I went to a trip to Egypt with some girlfriends, saw the pyramids in Giza. Plus I get free meals in the officers' mess."

"You sound like a recruitment commercial," I said, sticking a fork in the pasta. A waitress came to our table and served our entrees; I had this fusion pasta with this creamy red sauce as well as mushrooms, chickens, and bell peppers. "And what they do not tell you is that you could be transferred anywhere- including Antarctica or even the other side of the galaxy."

"It's in the small print when you sign to accept a commission," said Melissa.

"Yeah, always beware of the small print. I wonder what fine print the menu has."

"Not liable for salmonella poisoning?"

We both laughed.

Oooooo

We finished up with a bottle of expensive wine. It was not at the restaurant, though. It was a hotel room in Tangier, a very luxurious hotel room with soft carpets, a king-sized bed, a desk, and a Sony plasma television. The wallpaper had this marine-motif design.

"Nothing like a great bottle of wine," said Melissa.

"And a great hotel room to drink it in," I said. "At least the combat pay I got from my deployment in Monument City covers it."

We toasted and sipped the wine.

The next morning, I woke up in the bed. I had a great sleep, and it was a much better bed than the bed in the BOQ, like comparing a high-end restaurant to a McDonald's. Some light entered the room, filtered by the curtain over the window.

"Good morning," I said to Melissa.

"Good morning," she replied.

I felt a brief moment of hesitation. There were feelings inside me, churning like a blender. Memories of the previous night still surfaced.

"We should go steady," I said, kissing her.

"Of course," she said.

And so we did.

Ooooooooo

A few days later, I was having breakfast in the mess hall. I told them about getting together with Melissa.

"Congratulations," said Jack. "And I mean it. Having a girlfriend is great, even though you have to spend some of your time with her."

"That's the upside," I said, putting a spoon in my wheat bran.

"Don't forget what you learned at that VD workshop," said Mike.

I grimaced. I could still remember that mandatory workshop on VD, and the images.

oooooooo

I briefly glanced at a picture of an open marketplace in Istanbul in Turkey. Melissa and I were in the picture. The marketplace was packed with so many people and we bought some souvenirs. During our weekend trip there, we visited some historic sites and crossed the bridge over the Bosporus on foot, thus walking from one continent to another. It was hard to believe that it was two months since we had decided to go steady. We visited places around the Mediterranean, as well as local places in Tangier. I put the picture away and got back to my paperwork.

"We have some announcements," said Jack. "The battalion has announced it will be demobilized for December 23-27."

"So they are giving us a vacation, sir?" I asked, standing at attention with the others.

"Yes, Lieutenant, a paid vacation. A reserve battalion will fill in for us."

I recalled that the UEF can order servicemen and even entire units to take leave. "Well, at least until the enemy ramps up the offensive."

The war has been pretty low intensity, with skirmishes between enemy forces and the UEF, with no large scale battles. This did not mean we had nothing to do, aside from paperwork, we also had to train for the battles that surely would lie ahead, absent the enemy completely withdrawing.

"The base will also be holding a Christmas party on the 21st, just before we go on leave," said Jack. "Formal attire is required."

"In the meantime, we still have a troop to drill," said Mike.

"And I have a meeting with the battalion XO," said Jack, standing up and taking a manila folder.

Oooooooo

It was the day for the Christmas party, and I was buttoning my white shirt. It had been a long time since I had to wear the Army's formal dress uniform. I then tied the necktie.

"Do you need help with that?" asked Mike.

"Not really," I said. "You could hand me the coat."

"Sure thing."

I put on the dark blue coat, buttoning the buttons. I looked at myself. The formal dress uniform had blue pants with a yellow stripe running down the pant legs, a blue coat, and a collared white shirt and a necktie. My rank insignia was on the shoulders. A braid was looped around my left shoulder. My service ribbons were pinned to the left side of the coat. The last time I wore this uniform was at the end of basic training, when we all had to wear the uniforms and march in formation for a formal march.

I went out to the common area of the men's BOQ. Many of the men were dressed up for the occasion. A few of the men were in casual clothes, sitting down on the couches and watching television.

"You guys look great," said one of the officers who was staying in quarters, a dude whose name was Simon.

"Why aren't you going?" I asked.

"It's just not my thing," he said.

I saw Jack decked out in the Army dress blues; I noticed he had many more ribbons and medals than I did.

"Gentlemen, shall we?" asked Jack.

Ooooooo

The party was held in a multipurpose room in the base's community center. It was decorated with all sorts of Christmas decorations such as wreaths and Christmas lights. A Christmas tree stood in the corner. Many people were there, clad in their dress blues. Other people who were civilians were clad in fine outfits. Christmas music played from the speakers.

I escorted Melissa inside, holding her hand.

"Let's go get some punch," she said, clad in her dress uniform.

And so we did. Punch was served at this table with a white table cloth. I looked and saw alcoholic beverages being served at an open bar.

"Good evening, sir," I said, seeing Colonel Kravshera standing at the table. I noticed he had a lot of ribbons and medals, including those for his service with the Zentraedi back when they were Earth's enemies.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," he said.

I noticed a dark-haired, ruddy-skinned lady in her thirties standing next to him. She was wearing this red dress going down to her knees.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Leslie," she said. "Lupon is my husband."

I introduced myself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kravshera," I said, shaking her hand. "And this is my date, Melissa Sharp."

"Nice to meet you, madam," said Melissa. "Where are your from?"

"From a land called Arizona," said Mrs. Kravshera.

"What's it like there?" inquired Melissa.

"A lot of mountains getting snow in the winter, plenty of forests and canyons and deserts. I grew up in this little village in the northeastern part of Arizona. Many of us move to Flagstaff. There's a U.N. Army base near there. Lupon was stationed there ten years ago."

"Great story, madam," I said, drinking the punch. I looked at Melissa. "Shall we dance?"

"Okay," she said, taking my hand.

And so we did, dancing to some holiday rock tune on the wooden dance floor. I enjoyed being close to her. And I definitely would love to be even closer to her than we could dancing on this dance floor.

After a few songs, we stopped.

"I've got to take a rest," said Melissa. "And a drink."

And so we went to the open bar. I saw Jack together with Nina Washington.

"Hello," Melissa said to Jack. "Jack, isn't it?"

"That's right, Melissa," said Jack. "This is my girlfriend Nina."

"Hi there," said Nina, shaking my girlfriend's hand.

I ordered some cocktails. "A toast," I said.

"Cheers," we all said.

"Sir," I heard.

I looked and saw Glenn La Belle, decked out in his dress uniform.

"Good evening, Private La Belle," I said. "Enjoying the night."

"Yes, sir," he said. "This is my wife Courtney."

I looked and saw a lady with a blue dress. Her light-brown hair was tied in a ponytail.

"Good evening, Mrs. La Belle," I said, introducing myself.

"I'm still trying to get used to being called Mrs. La Belle," she said. "I've only been married for about a month or so."

"And how has that been?" I asked.

"It seems like such a long time."

"Especially since the war wound down," said Private La Belle, placing his arm around the waist of his new wife. "We now live in a studio apartment. It's not much, but it is mostly better than living with a bunch of immature singles."

"Now he only has to live with them when you deploy," said Mrs. La Belle.

"Who knows," said Melissa. "Maybe the enemy will withdraw. Maybe the Spacy will destroy all the enemy ships."

I briefly thought of the expeditionary forces. Did they find the enemy's supply base?

Or will the enemy crush Earth's defense fleet, giving them the ability to bomb us from orbit at will?

Melissa and I sat down with Jack, Nina, and the other officers in our battalion and their guests. No meal was served, only appetizers like stuffed mushrooms and mozzarella cheese sticks and nachos buffet style from a buffet table set up.

"Got to enjoy these appetizers," said Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane. "You won't find good food like this in the officers' mess."

"We had a local catering company," said another lieutenant, a dark-haired woman. "If we had the Army prepare the food, we might as well have this party in the mess."

We all laughed.

"With all due respect, sirs and madams," said Executive Sergeant Avital, standing near us, "the Army cooks are not exactly gourmet chefs, but they keep us from going hungry when we are out in the field. And I heard rumors that the whole battalion will be spending a week in the field soon. So, sirs and madams, I strongly advise you enjoy the appetizers. You will soon be grateful for getting to eat a hot meal."

We all remembered our deployment to that campsite near Monument City just a few months ago, and the primitive conditions that we endured.

"Okay, the colonel has an announcement to make," said an executive sergeant in our battalion.

We all looked at Colonel Kravshera.

"It is my honor to formally announce that the O-5 selection board's decision has been ratified," said the colonel. "Lim Yoon is now a lieutenant colonel."

We all applauded, both those of us in the battalion and those who were in other units and the civilians.

The newly minted lieutenant colonel spoke up next. "Because of my promotion, I have outgrown my post," said Colonel Yoon. "I am being transferred to my new post at the United Nations Army garrison in Glorie Colony."

We all applauded.

Mike walked up to Yoon. "Congratulations on your promotion and assignment, Lieutenant Colonel," he said. "Glorie Colony is a great place. We are like pioneers there, sir."

"You are from Glorie Colony, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

We all put on our covers and those of us junior to Colonel Yoon saluted him, and he returned our salute.

"This is a party," said Colonel Yoon. "At ease."

I then took Melissa out for another dance.

Ooooooooo

"It was so much fun," said Melissa, as I walked her back to the women's BOQ. The streets were empty; the only light came from the lampposts, as clouds obscured the sky. The outline of the building where Melissa's quarters were was revealed, a building that looked pretty much like the buildings in the men's BOQ.

"What else could it be?" I asked.

My Nokia cell phone rang. I answered it.

"It's Jack," said the voice. "We have to scramble. Gibraltar Air Base is under attack and they have requested reinforcements."

"I have to go," I said, kissing Melissa.

Oooooooo

I sat in my VHT-1 Spartas hovertank, driving it over the Strait of Gibraltar. I was still wearing the dress shirt and dress pants underneath my arming doublet; I did not have time to change to my MARPAT camouflage that I would normally wear under the doublet. Nina was traveling with Jack.

"No doubt about it," I said. "I could see the action from here."

"Maybe the enemy will be gone by the time we get there," said Jack.

I doubted it. We soon reached the Spanish coastline and slowed down, navigating along the roads. The Spanish authorities had cleared the highways for military traffic, both local and UEF.

"There's the base," said Mike. I could clearly see the smoke.

"Okay," said Jack. "Ducasse, check out the hangars. Avital, you are at my side."

"Enemy bioroids," said Staff Sergeant Wing.

"Everyone attack."

We could see the enemy bioroids. I opened fire and then we took cover.

"Everyone to the hangars."

And so we all followed Jack through the streets of the air base. We soon reached the buildings where the fighter craft were located. There were wrecked aircraft on some of the taxiways.

"You, Wing, and La Belle go to the BOQ and try to see if anyone needs help," Jack said to me. "Nina's going to suit up and get her fighter airborne."

"Yes, sir," I said. I turned the hovertank and drove on the streets, keeping an eye of for the enemy forces. "Is anyone there?" I asked over the radio.

"Here's the BOQ," said Nina. "I'm lighting it."

I could see the buildings illuminated by Nina's aircraft. I headed over there.

"Cover me," I said to La Belle and Wing. I got out. "Is anyone there?" I asked.

I saw Lieutenant Shelby Porter run out of the building, her blond hair unkempt. "We're all pinned down here," she said. "The enemy is all over."

"Get inside," I said. Shelby climbed into the cockpit of the Spartas. "Listen," I said. "We need to clear a path so the pilots can get to their planes."

"We copy," said Shirogane. "I'll lead a team to guard the path."

"All right," I said. "Wing, La Belle, cover me as I get to the hangar."

"Yes, sir," they said.

I sped through the darkness, towards the hangar.

"Where is it?" I asked, being unfamiliar with the layout of the air base.

"Make a right turn here," said Shelby.

So I did. We soon reached the hangar.

Shelby leaped out of the hovertank and went inside one of the rooms. I switched to battloid mode in the meantime. I looked and saw Shelby in her flight suit, climbing into the cockpit of the VF-11 Thunderbolt.

"We'll cover you," I said through the loudspeaker.

She taxied the plane to the hangar door and blasted off. I could see a few bioroids flying about in their sky sleds; I opened fire on them, shooting one of them down as Shelby's fighter moved up into the air.

"Okay," I heard Colonel Kravshera say. "Make sure to cover for the fighters' takeoff."

And we did, shooting at the enemy on the ground and in the sky even as more pilots took off.

"All right," said Jack. "what is the game plan now?"

"I dare not broadcast it," said Kravshera. "All troop captains rendezvous with me."

Jack drove his hovertank to Kravshera's position, and the rest of us in our troop covered him. We stayed on the lookout for enemy activity.

"We got more of them coming from the northeast," said Private La Belle.

We saw them and opened up a salvo, with the VF-4 Lightnings finishing them off.

Soon enough, Jack came back. He instructed me, Mike, and Sergeant Avital to speak with him in person, as he did not want to broadcast our plan over the radio.

"The UNOP has a cruiser in the Med," said Jack, referring to the United Nations Ocean Patrol. "Once we give them a target, they will fire a cruise missile salvo. So we need to lure the enemy into the middle of this airfield. Let's get going."

And so we did. I led Wing and La Belle with me, looking for enemy bioroids.

"I see them," said Wing.

We opened fire, predictably drawing their fire.

"Everyone fall back," I said. We slowly retreated while returning fire, taking down a few bioroids. It was a slow process, withdrawing to cover, while firing on the enemy. Soon we retreated back to the airfield.

We then raced across the airfield in hovertank mode, with the others laying down cover fire. We took cover behind another building. I could see the bioroids emerging out of the airfield, firing behind them. I figured some of our squads were forcing them to retreat _into_ the airfield.

"Keep clear of the target area!" shouted Kravshera.

The entire airfield was illuminated.

And then I saw these streaks of smoke. A split second later, there was a blast so powerful I could feel it. The smoke obscured our vision for over a minute.

As the smoke faded, I could see the wreckage of enemy bioroids.

"Score one for the Ocean Patrol," said Sergeant Avital.

"All right," said Kravshera. "Let's clean up."

And so we did. The enemy did not put much resistance. The remainder of them escaped in enemy transports as they flew towards the sky, with fighter jets chasing them.

And yet, I did not feel too victorious. What have we actually won? For all we know, this could have been a diversion. And the enemy is still in orbit.

"We lost Lieutenant Shirogane," I heard a female voice say.

Oooooooo

The next morning, all of the officers in the battalion had breakfast in the officers' mess. The usual was served- scrambled eggs, bacon, oatmeal, ham, fruit.

"Let's have a toast to First Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane," said Lieutenant Sue Lau, who was in Shirogane's troop. She held up a plastic cup full of orange juice.

"To Lieutenant Shirogane," we all said.

I did not know Shirogane well; he was competitive. I remembered the times when our troop and his troop played war games in the simulators, using various scenarios from capture the flag to escort missions.

And now he was gone. I wondered how his family would celebrate the holidays.

Ooooooooo

It was evening, and I stood outside the men's BOQ along with many other men. We were all granted leave, and we all booked flights through the base's travel agency.

"So what will you do?" I asked Jack.

"Go back to Monument City," he said, carrying his duffel bag. "It's going to be very cold there. You should be lucky you're going to Jamaica."

"Don't forget your skis," I said. Soon the shuttle van arrived; it was this huge van whose dark red color was revealed by the lampposts.

"Goodbye," said Melissa. "And have a merry Christmas." She kissed me, placing her hand on the back of my head.

"I sure will," I said before hopping into the van. The van left the base and went along the highway to Tangier. It was dark, so we could not see anything aside from the lights of the cars, lampposts, and buildings. The Atlantic Ocean was reduced to a dark expanse. We soon reached the Ibn Battouta Airport**, **the airport that serves Tangier**. **

"See you later, guys," I said, heading for the British Airways terminal**. **The terminal was busy, as I would expect for this time of year. Fortunately, my boarding pass was printed already. I went through security to the crowded boarding area where over a hundred people waited for their flight. I sat in the terminal, while others read newspapers or drank beverages they bought from fast food outlets and restaurants located in the terminal. Announcements in various languages blared out from speakers.

About an hour later, the gate was opened and I walked through a jetway into the British Airways passenger jet. I would have to take a flight to British Airway's hub in London before taking a connecting flight to Kingston. About forty minutes later, I felt the plane take off.


	8. Homecoming

"All passengers, this is the captain speaking," I heard. "We will be landing in Kingston in about one hour."

I fully woke up, and saw rows of seats, all full. I was on an airplane that was flying from London to Kingston. I had a two-hour stopover at the airport terminal in London, where I had myself an appetizer and some drinks at this bar before my flight to Kingston. I had to admit that the flight was more comfortable than flying in a C-130 Hercules from Gibraltar Air Base to Monument City Air Base.

Sure enough, an hour later I felt the landing gears touch down on the concrete surface of the runway at Norman Manley International Airport. A few minutes later the plane stopped.

"Welcome to Kingston," said a voice over the speaker. "And thank you for flying British Airways."

All of us headed for the exit. It took quite a while for me to reach the door. I walked along the jetway to the boarding area.

The boarding area looked as much as it did the few times I had been here before, with seats for waiting passengers. One difference I noted was the presence of Christmas decorations. The seats were mostly empty, as the next flight was still for quite some time. As expected for this time of year, the boarding area was crowded. In the distance I could see a Burger King and some duty-free shops. A tiled pathway led down the corridor connecting the boarding gates to the main concourse. Many of the people had bags full of gifts for friends and family. A few wall-mounted televisions showed images; one of them showed an image of United Earth Forces Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard giving a press conference, probably about the war.

I turned on my cell phone and made a call.

"Hello," said my big brother Paul.

I told him it was me. "Could you pick me up at the airport in Kingston in about an hour?" I looked at the massive crowds. They were not as massive as the crowds I saw in London's Gatwick Airport, but I still felt as if I was being squeezed from all directions. "It's going to take a while for me to get through customs."

I looked and saw a sign for Jamaican customs; already, there was a long line for people waiting to be cleared. I could smell the sweat.

A female voice called out my name.

I turned and saw a black lady in a blue blouse and skirt, with her tightly-curled black hair tied in a ponytail. She wore pumps on her feet.

"Ellie," I said.

"It's so great to see you." She walked over and gave me a hug. "And you're in the Army?"

"Yeah," I said. I was dressed in my Class "A" service uniform.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Very demanding," I said. "I'm glad I'm able to come home for some rest. And you?"

"Just bust with my career and all. I got back from a trip to Rio. Did you fight in the war?"

"Yes, I did," I said.

The line moved slowly as the customs agents in their blue collared shirts checked ID's and conducted inspections. It was longer than lines for rides at Six Flags over Montego. After over an hour, I finally managed to reach the customs desk, a wooden desk with two uniformed customs agents. I showed my passport and declared some items.

"You are clear," said the customs agent, a bald black guy in his mid-twenties. "Have a merry Christmas."

"Listen," Ellie said to me. "All of us are meeting at the cantina tonight. For a pre-Christmas celebration."

"Okay," I said. "I'll be there."

I left the customs area and went onto the main concourse, which was predictably a sea of people. I made sure to call my brother.

I went outside to the passenger loading area. Cars, buses, and vans slugged along the road, while other vehicles picked up or dropped off passengers. I could smell exhaust fumes from the vehicles. Most vehicles still used petrol, as it was cheaper than protoculture. I looked around. It was great being back in Jamaica.

I saw Paul come out from a blue Volvo that pulled to the curb.

"Bro," he said. "Great too see you."

"Good to see you too," I said.

"How's the Army life treating you, bro?"

"Okay food, okay quarters, at least when we're on base. In camp everything's primitive."

"Okay, Mom and Dad are home with Trina and Larry."

I threw my duffel bag in the back seat and got into the front seat of the car. Reggae music played on the car's stereo. After a minute, Paul found a gap in the traffic and pulled into the lane.

As we inched along the heavy traffic leaving Norman Manley, I began thinking about my encounter with Ellie. I could remember how we met years ago, and how we got along. I got to know her well. And we got along together perfectly, like mixing alcohol and water.

And I remembered loving her.

And I remembered what she said when, one afternoon, I asked when we can start dating.

"It would ruin our friendship."

I was hurt. We got along together so well, and she sent all the signals indicating that she liked me. How could she have not wanted to act on those feelings? It did not make sense. I had thought that we would be together. I could not imagine her rejecting me, after the way she behaved towards me compared to how other girls behaved towards me.

I looked out and we had left the airport. Traffic was still heavy on the road connecting the airport with the A4. I could see the wide expanse of the Caribbean Sea to my right. To my left, I saw Kingston Harbour with its many boats and ships, and the skyline of downtown Kingston in the distance. I once again thought about Ellie.

And then I was thinking about Melissa Sharp. Am I not going with Melissa now? And did I not get father with her than I did with Ellie? What was I worrying about?

And yet if someone who actually liked me could reject me, could Melissa simply drop me for any inexplicable reason or no reason at all?

I looked around at the scenery. I hated overthinking things. I could see familiar landmarks, from buildings to lampposts. We reached the exit from the highway, a few miles from Kingston, that we used to get to Mom and Dad's house.

I could see the neighborhood; there were stores along the sidewalks, with people doing some Christmas shopping. We turned onto a quiet residential street with houses in neat rows and various cars parked on the street. Paul stopped the car by our parents' house.

"I'll find a place to park," he said, noting that street parking was scarce.

I got out of the car and looked at my watch. It had been a little over twenty hours since I got on board the shuttle van back in Gibraltar Base.

Carrying my duffel bag, I went to my parent' house and rang the doorbell.

I was greeted with a hug.

"How are you doing?" asked Mom.

"Great," I said. "I'm glad to be home. And you are looking well."

"How is my soldier boy?" asked Dad.

"Great," I said. "It was a tiring flight, but I'm home."

I looked at the living room. It looked as much the same as it did, with a coffee table and couches. A blue carpet covered the floor. A huge Sony plasma television served as the masterpiece; it was currently off. One noticeable difference were the holifay wraths hanging on the top of the walls. I could see toys strewn on the carpet.

"Larry," I said.

"Hi," said a three-year-old boy in blue overalls. "What are you wearing?"

"It's my Army uniform," I said to my nephew. "I wear a uniform when I go to work."

"Like what Daddy wear when he go to work?"

"A little different."

"How are you doing, soldier boy?" asked Trina.

I looked at Trina. She looked the same as before, with dark tightly-curled hair and dark skin. She wore this green dress. I first met her a couple of years ago. I could still remember her wedding with my brother Paul.

"Great," I said.

"Did you fight in the war?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Anything exciting happen while I was away?"

"Nothing aside from a tropical storm or two."

"I made a late lunch for you," Mom said to me. I went to the kitchen, sitting at the wooden dining table. I could see the Salisbury steak on serving plate, drenched with mushroom sauce. Coco bread was served in this straw basket.

I immediately went for the Salisbury steak.

"I can see you're hungry," said Dad.

"Just wait until I serve jerk turkey and curry goat for Christmas," said Mom.

"I almost forgot," I said, after having eaten the ground beef patty. I reached into my duffel bag. "I got this in a gift shop at the airport in Morocco."

I took out a plastic toy battloid, which was made for kids Larry's age. I gave it to my nephew.

"What do you say?" asked Paul.

"Thank you, Uncle," Larry said to me.

I went upstairs to the second floor hallway and entered the door on the right. This was my bedroom. It looked just like I remembered it, with a bed and personal computer and a TV and a dresser.

I opened the closet and started undressing.

Oooooooo

I could hear the waves of the Caribbean Sea crashing on the beach as I walked on the boardwalk that night. I looked and saw this building with straw awnings. It was the Cantina Loco, a popular beach hangout.

"Hi there," said a girl at the hostess counter whom I had never met. She was wearing a black blouse and skirt with the cantina logo on the blouse. "Welcome to Cantina Loco."

Hermes and I entered the cantina. I was dressed in sneakers and jeans and a blue T-shirt, while Hermes wore khaki pants, glasses, and a red T-shirt. Hermes had been my friend since childhood.

"Do they have places like this in Morocco?" asked Hermes.

"There's a few in Tangier," I said.

"I thought people there wouldn't drink alcohol."

"It's not one of those fundie Muslim countries like Saudi Arabia," I said. "There they are."

Everyone was sitting at this wooden table. Food and drink were already on the table top. The main bar of the cantina had a straw awning just like outside. Mariachi music played over the speakers. There were not that many people; this place tended to get much busier during the summer.

"How's the war hero?" asked one of the men, whose name was Fred.

"Glad to be back," I said.

"And what was it like?"

"Well, one time my team and I were deployed to the Sahara Desert during the summer. It was baking hot. The Army brought ice cold water just for us to cool down."

"All that talk is making me want a cold drink," said Hermes. "Shall we order some more drinks?"

And so we did.

"I propose a toast," said a blond-haired guy whose name was Randy. "A toast to the war hero."

And so we toasted. I downed the drink quickly.

"I forgot to mention," said Hermes. "Charlie won't be here."

"Where is he?" asked this lady named Barbara.

"Charlie's in a ship on the other side of the Universe."

"He is?" asked Fred.

"I remember he enlisted in the Spacy," I said, taking a tortilla chip and dipping it in salsa. Charlie was another longtime friend of mine.

"His ma told me she got a message from him," said Hermes. "He's on this ship, I think it's called the Global or something."

Ellie looked at me; I could see that familiar smile. She then looked at all of us. "A toast to those who won't be back for Christmas," she said.

"And for those who will never be back for Christmas ever again."

My words immediately erased the smile from everyone's face. The mariachi music and the positive attitude from the people sitting at the bar and the other tables felt like light-years away.

"I never thought of that," said Fred.

We all drank in memory of the fallen. I thought of Tomas Cabon and Isamu Shirogane.

"That was very good," said another man, a bald black dude wearing a polo shirt. "We needed to learn that."

I glanced at him again; I did not recognise him.

"I have an announcement to make," he said.

He took Ellie's hand and led her on the floor. He then knelt down.

"Ellie, will you marry me?" he asked.

Marry her? Who was he? I remembered her boyfriend from before I left for Gibraltar Base, the boyfriend whom she started seeing after she had told me that dating would ruin our friendship, but that was not him.

"Yes," said Ellie. "I will marry you."

I saw the diamond ring slip on her left ring finger. She gave him a kiss and everyone cheered.

Except me.

"How long did you know him?" I asked.

"Three months," she said.

Three months? That was the time I was deployed to Monument City. And she was going to marry someone after only knowing him for three months? I knew Melissa longer than that.

"That is interesting," I said in a neutral tone.

"We're in love," she said.

"What about…"

"He's old news. My man is right here."

She wrapped her arms around him and I glanced away.

I was soon sitting at the bar, having a schooner of beer. A replay of a football game was on the TV.

"Are you all right?" asked Barbara.

"Fine," I said. I looked at her. She looked pretty much as she did before, with creamed coffee skin and light brown hair; she was dressed in jeans and a red striped blouse.

"You're not fine. Is it about fighting in the war?"

"Yes, it's about fighting in the war." I briefly remembered my battles with the so-called bioroids. "I can still smell and see the war sometimes."

"And it's about Ellie too."

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw the way you were looking at her. We all know you liked her. And she was fond of you. I never understood why you never got together."

"That's in the past," I said, sipping the beer.

And yet, I could still feel that affection that she showed. It was her affection, more than anything else that drew me to her. Come to think of it, while Melissa liked me, she did not show that kind of affection. And then I was thinking. Was I simply dating Melissa, going steady with her, just to have a substitute Ellie? What would happen if Melissa did not show the same affection that Ellie showed toward me? And how could Ellie find someone to marry so soon, and know that he is the one just three months?

"Why are you sitting here alone?" asked Hermes.

"I wanted a beer," I said. "It has been a long year for me."

"Well, after Christmas is over, we should have a goin' away party for you, man. You fly back on the 27th , right?"

"Yeah, or I'll be AWOL."

"If you fly back on the 27th, then we party on the 26th."

I saw Ellie approach me with her new fiancé.

"We have to be going now," she said. "Merry Christmas."

"I will," I said. I saw them leave, with his arm around her waist and her head against his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas," said Barbara.

"Have a merry Christmas," I said to her.


	9. Jerk Christmas

My family and I stepped out of Christ the King Anglican Church after the Christmas service was over. It was a beautiful service, with a recorded holographic message from the Archbishop of Canterbury played inside the church. Outside, there were a lot of clouds in the sky, with holes revealing patches of blue. We were all dressed in our best clothes. We greeted our fellow flock a merry Christmas, including a few family friends.

"Let's go home," said Mom. "We got to prepare."

Oooooooo

I was in the kitchen, helping Mom prepare the Christmas dinner. Specifically, I was helping with the turkey.

The kitchen looked pretty much the same as it did when I left Jamaica, with counters, cupboards, a sink, an oven and stove, a refrigerator, and a microwave oven. I had used the microwave oven to defrost the turkey. I wore an apron over my clothes, as well as gloves on my hands.

Mom was making the jerk spice. She usually made the jerk spice by hand, using allspice, Scotch bonnet peppers, cloves, cinnamon, and other stuff.

"So how do you get along in the Army?" she asked.

"Fine," I said. "We rely on each other for our lives. They're great people."

"I had an uncle who lived in England. He served in the Global Civil War. That was before that robotech stuff came to Earth."

I remembered my history. It was a series of wars about thirty years ago, happening all over the world. The war sort of subsided after robotechnology arrived in a crash.

"Did he tell you about the war?"

"I read letters he wrote," answered Mom. "He was killed in action. We'd better take the turkey outside. Our oven can't jerk the turkey."

And so we did. We took the turkey and the jerk spice to what passed for a backyard- basically a small outdoor enclosure behind the house, next to the garage. The enclosure had doors leading to the house and the garage, and it had a gate leading to the alley in the back.

"Let's get cooking," said Dad, wearing a chef's hat and a white apron. The turkey was placed over the jerk pan, and a charcoal fire heated the pan, sending up wafts of smoke. Mom brushed the turkey with the jerk spice. I looked around and we were clearly not the only family on the block cooking some type of jerk meat.

"Dinner is going to be great," said Paul.

Trina was in the yard, carrying Larry.

"How are your parents, Trina?" asked Mom.

"They're great," she replied. "We had a great dinner."

I remembered that Trina's mom and stepdad lived in Port Antonio; she, Paul, and Larry had dinner there on Christmas Eve.

Larry was holding the toy I gave him just two days ago. "Uncle fight aliens," he said.

Trina smiled.

I was thinking. How could a young boy like Larry possibly understand what it means to fight a war? To understand what combat is like. To him, war was a game. I recalled my reunion with my friends, and even they did not understand.

I hoped that Larry would not have to go through with this.

The sun had set, leaving the sky a light purple that was turning dark, by the time we had dinner. Coco bread and curry goat was served, along with the jerk turkey for the main course. Leftover jerk spice was in a bowl if any of us wanted to add extra spice to our turkey. Dad carved slices from the turkey with this long knife. I eagerly took one of the slices of the meat.

After eating it, my mouth felt like a volcano. I certainly did not need some additional jerk spice. Dad brushed some extra jerk spice on his turkey.

"Is Morocco a great place?" asked Trina.

"It is when the enemy is not attacking," I said.

"And where else have you been?"

"I've visited Istanbul and Athens, for one day each," I said, remembering my trips with Melissa. "I even visited France." I did not mention I was there in combat.

"The Army is sure a great way to see the world," said Paul, reaching for some coco bread. "Maybe they will even send you to the other side of the galaxy."

"My friend Charlie is on a ship there right now."

"I remember the fellow," said Mom. "His mother mentioned that a few days ago, about Charlie not being able to be home for Christmas. I think he does flight deck operations."

Trina opened the refrigerator door. "We should get champagne for all of us except Larry."

"What do I get, Mommy?" asked Larry.

"Some orange juice."

"Yay," said the boy.

And so Larry got orange juice, while the rest of us drank sparkling champagne. It tasted good, that sweet sharp taste with the tingly feeling from the bubbles. We toasted for a merry Christmas.

I later went up to my room. My personal computer was still there; I was glad Mom and Dad did not sell it. I turned it on and opened an Internet browser.

A news article on the browser's home page; it was about Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard having Christmas supper with troops deployed on the moon Tirol. I accessed my e-mail.

I smiled when I read an e-mail from Melissa. It made me forget about all the stuff I had been through, at least for a while.

I later went down and watched this Christmas special with Larry and his parents. It was old, even before my time. And yet, I enjoyed it and I enjoyed how Larry enjoyed it. It was a great distraction from my full stomach.

But then it was finally time for Paul, Trina, and Larry to go. We all greeted each other merry Christmas one last time.

Ooooooo

"Another toast to you," said Hermes.

We downed another cocktail. I was with my friends at this seafood restaurant where my brother works. It looked pretty much the same as I remembered. The restaurant was fairly large, with wooden tables and carpeted floors. A wooden bar was at the corner, served by two bartenders, with shelves full of bottles in the back. It was a higher class place than the Cantina Loco. The lighting was dim. A man with dreadlocks and dressed in a suit played the piano. The television showed a limbo game.

We were celebrating my departure from Jamaica. I had to take a morning flight back to Morocco the next morning. I was dressed in casual clothes, including a new shirt that I got for Christmas. On my plate were a few scraps of rice and peas; I had finished the ackee and saltfish.

"Come home safe, man," said Randy.

"Too bad Charlie is missing this," said Fred, drinking a beer.

"You should plan a reunion when he gets back," I said.

I then wondered if he would get back. While he was not on Earth, his ship could be on a mission to find the home world or supply bases of the aliens with whom we were at war. And I knew that the galaxy became a more dangerous place since the First Robotech War ended.

"You might not be there to see Charlie," said Hermes.

"How is your medical school education going?" I asked.

"I'm glad for the break," said Fred. "I picked up a few extra shifts. Got to earn me some money to pay for the tuition."

I nodded. So many of my friends were in the restaurant industry, although some of them, like Fred, were doing this until they could pursue professional careers like medicine or law.

A while later, I went to the men's room. I saw Paul in there.

"Enjoying yourself, bro," he said.

"It's great food. A little expensive, but I earned a lot of bonus pay."

"I admire your decision," said my brother. "Going into the Army, becoming an officer. I mean, I like being a waiter, and I make a lot."

"More than I make."

"Yeah, but your work has to be fulfilling. You are defending our world from those aliens. I'd better get back to work. See you later."

"You too," I said.

Ooooooooo

"So much traffic," said Dad.

I could see the long line of cars and their red brake lights on the road leading from the A4 to Norman Manley International Airport. I took the time to look out to the Caribbean Sea. The sky was pink as the sun was rising. The view was always great.

"It is the 27th," I said. "People are leaving, and some of them are even coming here to celebrate New Years."

"I have to work," said Dad. "People always want to party for New Years' A lot warmer here than most places in England or America."

"Those English and American tourists are what pay for your car and house."

The sky grew brighter and brighter as we inched along the road. I once again checked my boarding pass. It specified my route, going to London and then to Tangier. After going through security, I would not have much time before I had to board the plane.

Dad made the turnoff from the road to the airport terminal. I could see the terminal buildings. The sidewalks were crowded with people in all sorts of dress, all carrying bags. Some of them had huge trains of luggage. My only luggage was my duffel bag with my Class "A" uniform, a change of clothes, and other things.

We finally reached the British Airways terminal.

"Take care," Dad said to me.

"And you too," I replied.

I waded through the sea of people to the British Airways terminal. I went straight for the gate after passing through security, which only took half as long as it took to get from the house to the airport. It was another short wait- about ten minutes, before the gate was opened and I boarded the plane.

I sat in the center seat, flanked by two strangers.

"Enjoy your Christmas, chap?" asked this brown-haired man in his forties whose accent revealed he was from England.

"Yeah, I have to go back to Tangier. I'm in the U.N. Army."

"I've friends who are veterans," said the English man.

Half an hour later the plane took off for London, the engines screaming. I soon fell asleep.


	10. Casablanca

The shuttle van approached the front gate of Gibraltar Base. The MP at the guardhouse checked our ID's, and then waved us in. After three minutes we reached the men's BOQ and I hopped out of the van, duffel bag in tow. It was early in the morning; the sun rose to the east, crowned by clouds.

I entered, seeing the familiar sights, hearing the familiar sounds, and smelling the familiar smells of the men's BOQ.

"You'd better get dressed," Lieutenant Michael Meyers said to me. "Remember the whole battalion is doing roll call. Class A's are the uniform for the day."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to be AWOL," I answered.

I went to my room and quickly got into my Class "A" service uniform. One of the things I learned in Basic was how to put on Class "A's" in under a minute while being able to pass inspection. After that, we all went to the officers' mess.

I heard Melissa call out my name. I looked and she was dressed in a blue outfit, the type of outfit typically worn by Air Force hospital officers.

"How was your Christmas?" she asked.

"I loved it," I said. "I had dinner with my family, and two days before I had a reunion with my friends from Jamaica. And your Christmas?"

"It wasn't so bad. We had a miniature Christmas celebration."

"One of my old childhood friends was on a ship for Christmas," I said. "I bought this at a boutique near my home."

I gave her a silver necklace, placing it around her neck. "Merry Christmas."

"Will you join me for breakfast?"

"Sure," I said. "Let me go get some food."

And so I did. I asked her about her miniature Christmas celebration.

"Just a bunch of us girls in the little kitchen we have. Egg nog, cookies, cake."

"Not very healthy food," I said, taking a strip of bacon. "Now jerk turkey, that is healthy."

"Jerk turkey?"

"A Jamaican cuisine using jerk spice. It's really spicy."

"I can see where you get your personality, Lieutenant." She drank some apple juice from a paper cup. "I really do want to see my family back in Georgia. I will file for a vacation request."

"When?" I asked.

"Sometime in the spring. Georgia is really cold in the winter. We should take leave at the same time so we can fly to Georgia and see my family."

"Only if we fly to Jamaica to see my family afterward," I said.

This was it. This was the next huge step. And yet, I recalled my encounter with Ellie, and even though I enjoyed Melissa's company, in the back of my mind I was wondering if I was with her to make up for Ellie not getting together with me.

"Come on," Lieutenant Jack Emerson said to me. "The colonel is waiting for us.

Ooooooooo

All of us were dressed in Class "A" service uniforms, and we all stood at attention in the parade ground. We were all organized by troop, and Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera faced us. We saluted him, and he returned our salute.

Officers from the headquarters section inspected the other officers, while sergeants from the headquarters inspection inspected the other enlistees. Their eyes were like hawks, inspecting the tiniest detail.

"Troop and company captains," said Kravshera. "Roll call." He then called them all out by name, and all of the troop captains answered, including Jack.

Jack then called for roll call in our troop, starting with Mike, then me, then Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital, then the rest of the enlistees. After Jack was done, the colonel asked him who was present.

"Everyone in my troop is present, sir," he said.

Once roll call was done, Colonel Kravshera faced us.

"We are done here," he said. "Now all of you maintain operational readiness."

"Yes, sir!" we all said.

Oooooooo

My role in maintaining operational readiness was filling out paperwork in the 18th ATAC troop office. Jack was out in the field with Sergeant Avital.

Private First Class Glenn La Belle had been assigned to police the troop office.

"Here is the list of the office inventory, sir," he said to me, handing me a slip of paper. "And all of the office equipment is in order and working, sir."

"And how are you doing, Private?" I asked.

"I sometimes miss living in the BEQ, sir," he said.

I recalled the camaraderie the men in the BOQ had. "Report to Sergeant Avital. I am sure she has a suitable duty for you."

"Yes, sir," he said, leaving the office.

Ooooooooo

"All right team, there's the hill," said Jack. "Let's change it."

It was only a hill in a programming sense, of course. We were in the hovertank simulators conducting a drill. We were up against another team. Our objective was to capture a hill, which another team was holding. Colonel Kravshera and his staff were monitoring us.

The simulators and the equipment were expensive, from what I had heard. It was similar to what I had worked with when I was in hovertank school. It was still cheaper than using the protoculture and ammunition in a live fire exercise, which we had done a couple of times before the war. Fighting the enemy bioroids did provide plenty of live fire practice.

"Okay, this is what we got," said Sergeant Avital. "They have the high ground, so they have an advantage."

I did not understand the reason for doing this in real life. In real life, we would go around them, or at least call for an air strike or an orbital strike. But in this exercise, there were no reinforcements.

"Take Ducasse and La Belle and screen for any enemy activity," Jack said to me.

And so I did, operating the controls so that the simulated hovertank would move in the simulated world. The simulated world had tall trees, large enough for us to use as cover.

"I don't see any enemy activity," said La Belle.

"I see something," said Private First Class Philip Ducasse. I looked at the screen and saw two VHT-1's in battloid mode on the hillside.

"All right," I said. "Jack, we need some cannon fire…"

"Look out!" yelled La Belle.

The screen went blank, and the message "You Are Dead" appeared.

I hopped out of the simulator. The room we were in was huge, with simulators and cables. A control room was on the other side of the window.

In case any of us "died", we were told to wait outside until the simulation was finished. I went out to the unremarkable lobby, reading some of the magazines on the table.

A few minutes later, Jack and the others came out.

"You need to stop dying like that," Mike said to me. "You're the one who's gonna have to do the performance evaluations for our troop."

"At least you'll have something to do before you go to the New Year's Party," said Jack.

I walked back to the troop office. It is a bit chilly outside, being the beginning of winter in this part of the world. I entered the office, noticing the difference in temperature.

I accessed a computer terminal in the office. Sergeant Avital had shown me how to use it, to access the battalion's computer database to do things like simulation evaluations.

This was not a multiple choice test where I would simply take out an answer book and compare it with the answers on the tests. As I heard the audio and looked at a bird's eye view of the simulation, I would have to take notes of what we did and how each soldier performed. I knew that the headquarters staff was doing the same to judge the troops as a whole.

I could see the part where I "died".

"Watching the game, sir?" asked Sergeant Avital.

"Yes," I said, even as I scribbled notes about those of us who played the war game. "Still, it's just a game. I mean, those simulations, if you get killed, you just go back to the office. In real life…"

"Well, Lieutenant, it is better than nothing. And they are cheaper than live exercises. We can't very well blow each other up during training."

I understood her point. "I wonder if I would able to actually do that in real life, knowing that I or my friends could get killed."

"I still wonder that, sir," said the sergeant, "and I've been in combat more than you."

I looked at the papers beside the keyboard, continuing the evaluations.

Oooooooo

"I have to admit, you are a better dancer than the first time," said Melissa. "But you have a lot to learn."

We were in the O-club. I had earlier picked up Melissa at the women's BOQ, soon after I finished the training evaluations for my troop. The club was currently decorated with a banner reading "Happy New Year", for it was New Year's Eve. The plasma televisions showed New Year's celebrations in time zones ahead of ours. All of us were dressed in dressy civilian clothes. I wore khaki pants and a collared polo shirt, and Melissa wore a red casual dress.

After the song was done, we sat down at a circular table with Jack and Lieutenant Nina Washington, who had come here on leave and was staying at a guest lodge that the base offered to UEF servicepersons as hotel lodging. Other officers in the battalion sat at adjacent tables, nursing their drinks. Just outside the club were uniformed military police.

"We get to ring in the New Year before anyone in Jamaica does," I said.

"I once celebrated New Year's in a club in Monument City, back when I was a butter bar," said Jack.

"It has a more exciting nightlife than here," said Nina, sipping her drink. "I might have actually been at the same club as Jack, and didn't know it."

"Yeah, I mean those clubs were so crowded, the colonel could have been there and we wouldn't have seen him."

I smiled. Colonel Kravshera did have a noticeable skin color.

"I was thinking of taking some paid leave in the summer," said Melissa. "Go back to Georgia, and then take a flight to Jamaica to see what it's like?"

"Have you been to the Caribbean?" asked Nina. "I had a trip to Barbados two summers ago."

"No, I haven't. The closest I've been is the east coast of Florida. Look, there are my friends."

"Shall I join you?" I asked.

Melissa went to another table where two ladies were sitting. I had already met one of them before, a dark-haired lady named Tam, who worked at the base hospital. The other lady had red hair. Tam wore a blue dress, while the red-haired lady wore a green dress.

"Hello," said Tam.

"Hi there," I said.

"I'm Kristin," said the red-haired lady. "I'm a medical officer at the Air Force hospital."

I introduced myself. "Nice to meet you," I said.

"So this is the man you're talking about," said Kristin. She looked at me. "You should watch out for Melissa here. She can be wild."

I laughed. "And you have been here how long?" I asked.

"Three years."

"Do you have any plans for the next year?" asked Tam.

"We're thinking of taking paid leave either in late spring or early summer," I said.

"That's a few months from now," said Melissa. "I'm thinking a weekend trip to Casablanca sometime this month."

"It's winter," said Kristin. "Not great beach weather."

"Better than spending the weekend here, not that the O-club is a bad place."

I walked a few feet to join my friends. We all had another round of drinks.

"I wonder what sort of New Year's celebration they have on that planet you're from," I asked Mike.

"Glorie Colony," said Mike. "Basically we go out at night and down a few shots of whiskey. I remember one time when we saw Glorie's two moons shining at the time. It was the sticks back during my formative years. Wooden buildings and sidewalks in the town. We had to use an outhouse. The only place that has concrete buildings and running water was the military base."

"You must have moved there when you were what, ten?" I asked.

"Eleven years old," said Mike. "On Earth we did not have much, so my parents decided that there would be opportunities on Glorie."

"And what do your parents do?"

"Scratch dirt and make babies. That was the reason the Glorie Colonization Bureau accepted them; they were healthy adults of breeding age. Got to have a large population for the colony to be able to feed and clothe itself."

"I thought a large population would be poorer," I said, remembering the overpopulated impoverished nations of Earth.

"Well, when nearly every hand is needed to grow food, there aren't that many people left to make other things like tools and parts, let alone spacecraft. Things like video games and cell phones are much more common on Earth. Plus we have a lot more clubs and restaurants in Tangier alone than in all of Glorie Colony."

"And you joined the Army because you wanted to visit Earth."

"Pretty much. Interstellar travel is expensive and the only way of leaving Glorie is to join the UEF."

"Of course, they could have stationed you on the base on Glorie Colony," I said.

"Yeah, we go where the Army sends us," said Mike.

"How many people live in the colony?" I asked.

"When I left, it was about fifty thousand people, not including the soldiers stationed at the military base," said Mike. "The colony is heavily subsidized by the United Earth Government."

"They want to make sure humanity survives in case of a war with aliens. Like what we have now."

Soon the clock approached midnight. We watched the screen as it counted down towards New Year's for Morocco.

"Happy New Year!" we all shouted. I gave Melissa the first kiss of the new year. A few other couples, including Jack and Nina, also kissed, anticipating a bright future even in these trying times.

"Join me for the first dance of the new year," I said.

"I am filling a little drunk," answered Melissa. "But okay."

I took her on the dance floor. I felt so great, like my troubles were deeply buried like a scrap of paper in a cluttered room.

Oooooooo

"How are you doing?" asked Melissa as I saw her in the bathroom mirror.

"Just shaving," I said, as the razor made a track through the shaving cream. "I heard ladies shave. Maybe I can help you."

Melissa and I decided to take a trip to Casablanca the second weekend after New Year's Day, as we both had the weekend off. The weather was cloudy, not like a warm day in Casablanca would have in the summer, let alone the warm days in Kingston, Port Antonio, or Montego Bay. But while the beach boardwalk was not crowded, it did provide a quiet atmosphere, which we appreciated. Gibraltar Base was never that quiet.

We had stayed in a hotel that had been constructed about ten years ago. From the outside, it was a glass and steel structure, like a box bent facing away from the Atlantic Ocean. Our room had a king-sized bed, a Toshiba plasma television, and a desk with padded chairs. A soft carpet covered the floor.

"I say we have ourselves a nice breakfast," said Melissa. "Just let me put on my makeup."

One of the things I liked about her is that she can put on makeup and jewelry quickly; I presumed that it was something she learned in the Air Force.

We left the room, walked down the hallway to the elevator, and then pressed the button for the lobby. After walking through the marble-tiled floor of the lobby, we reached this little café where the hotel served breakfast. Menus were printed in Arabic, Spanish, Italian, and of course, English.

"I remember a trip my girlfriends and I took to the beach here last summer," said Melissa, sitting at a table covered in a green tablecloth. "The beaches were a lot more crowded."

"I don't mind," I said. "We don't have to squeeze our way through a crowd every time we go out."

A dark-haired waitress took our order. I had some fried eggs and bacon and toast, and Melissa had eggs and sausage and some hash browns. I had ordered tomato juice for a drink, and Melissa ordered orange juice. The hotel breakfast was superior to what was served in the officers' mess in Gibraltar Base, which was why I had to pay more for the hotel breakfast.

I could taste the fried eggs and bacon, and the tangy taste of the tomato juice, and feel a slight rumbling.

"Do you feel that?" asked Melissa. "Is that an earthquake?"

"I don't know," I replied.

And then I heard this loud, high-pitched horn. It sounded like an air raid siren.

"I think our little vacation is over," I said.

Gulping down the tomato juice, I ran to the elevator. It felt so long for the elevator to open and then take me to the floor where our room was. I had to insert the room key threw times before the electronic lock released the door. I turned on the television in our room, which I had set to run in English.

"The military has confirmed an ongoing attack in Casablanca," said a Moroccan government official whose voice was clearly dubbed. "We have been informed the enemy Bioroids have landed in the city. The Royal Army and Navy are already engaging the enemy, and we have requested backup from the United Earth Forces."

"So it is an enemy attack," said Melissa, who had come with me to the room.

"Good thing I came prepared," I said. I recalled that the 17th ATAC troop was on-call this weekend, so they would already have scrambled, and Colonel Kravshera and the rest of the 6th Battalion would catch up with them shortly. I took a suit of MARPAT camouflage from my duffel bag.

"You'd better get suited up," I said even as I started out the door.

"I'm not a fighter," said Melissa.

"You're a healer."

"I only do physical therapy."

"There will be wounded. We will need all the help we can get, madam."

"Thank you for your advice, Lieutenant."

I picked up the phone. Not surprisingly, the phone line was down.

Rushing down to the lobby and out the door, we could see smoke coming from every direction. I looked up and saw one of the alien ships, which was probably providing cover fire for the invading forces.

I knew I had to join the local forces, if I could not link up with my battalion.

We went down to the parking garage where we had parked our rental car, a red Volkswagen Jetta. Getting into the Jetta, I started the engine and drove the car out of the garage and onto the streets of Casablanca.

"Where are we going?" asked Melissa.

"We have to contact Gibraltar Base somehow," I said. The streets were mostly empty; most of the civilians had pulled over and sought shelter from the bioroids. There were a few military vehicles driving down the streets.

There was a roadblock ahead, manned by green-uniformed, lightly-armored soldiers. I immediately got out.

"Can any of you speak English?" I asked.

One of the soldiers, a young man in his early twenties, approached. "Yes, I speak English."

"I'm with the U.N. Army," I said. "She's a medic with the U.N. Air Force."

"We asked for reinforcements."

"My fellow troops should be arriving soon," I said. "They are the 6th Hovertank Battalion. I need an airlift to join my troops."

"Let me write it down."

And so he did. He then talked to another man, who was presumably his superior officer. I looked around, seeing smoke coming from the distance. I wondered if this was happening elsewhere in the world. Were the aliens invading Jamaica? It would be night there.

I heard one of the men yell. I looked up and could see the bioroids riding on their flying sleds, intent on destroying everything on the way to their goal.

"Take cover!" I yelled.

And I did. We were clearly at a disadvantage from the enemy approaching the ground.

I took cover behind a car just before I heard a blast. I peeked and noticed rubble.

"Are you all right?" I asked Melissa.

She nodded. I looked up and saw fighter jets engaging the enemy spacecraft, and a few of them exploding into a fireball. For a brief moment I wondered if they were drones, or if the drones had all been shot down and the live pilots were now engaging the enemy. Ahead, I could see the bioroids landing on the street.

There was no argument. We had to retreat.

And we did. We ran as fast as we could, turning a few corners and passing buildings, barely noticing their features.

We then came across civilians running in the opposite direction, and I could see way. There were three bioroids on the street, flanked by enemy troops.

And we ran along with them, fleeing towards safety. I was hoping a helicopter or something could pick me up and bring me to my battalion.

And then our path was blocked. Our only escape was into the buildings.

We fled into a building that looked like it was a flower shop. It was now packed with people who were seeking refuge from the invading aliens. Many of the people looked at me.

"Listen up," I said. "We just have to stay low. Reinforcements are on the way."

Suddenly, the enemy troops busted in and opened fire. They all held their weapons at us.

There was no way to win.


	11. From Up Above to Down Under

We could be in the other side of the galaxy.

We were inside this huge room, with only few rugs to sleep on. The only light came from dim light fixtures in a ceiling twenty feet above us. We were given regular intervals of food and water, the food being some sort of cracker. I could not tell how much time it had been since the battle in Casablanca.

I could still remember being marched into the enemy ship. I remember the feeling of being squeezed against the floor as the ship took off, hearing sounds of explosions from outside the ship, until no sound could be heard from outside.

I then remembered being marched along with the others through these corridors, some of them wide, others narrow. The march seemed to take a very long time.

I looked around. I could see air vents, but nothing big enough for us to crawl around.

One thing I noticed is that Melissa Sharp was not here with us. Did she escape capture? Was she being held in another room? Or was she dead?

"I wonder what is next," said Al Badri.

She had recognized me, after all these months. She was a police sergeant in Tangier, and I remember when I first met her, when a sergeant from our battalion had been arrested for drunk driving.

"I was on my way to visit my sister in Tangier," she had said. "I took cover when the attack started, but then the troops came."

And one thing I noted about the troops is that they look human. Certainly no group from Earth outside the United Earth Government could afford to build a fleet of starships. I remember from history lessons about the First Robotech War that the study of Zentraedi physiology proves a common origin with humanity. I wondered if these people had a similar common origin.

And I wondered if they had spies on Earth or even humanity's colonies outside Earth's solar system.

There was not much to do, being held here.

A while later some people arrived. I immediately noticed three old men, all dressed similarly and all looking alike, as if they were triplets. I also noticed six women with them, all in dressed and looking pretty much alike save for slight differences in hair color.

One of the old men asked one of the women a question in their language. Another woman then said something to one of the men. If only I understood them.

I continued listening for a while.

Some of the guards, dressed in body armor and bearing rifles, went into the room. They grabbed two of the prisoners and escorted them away. Then they all left. Some of us were talking, probably asking where the guards took them. I wondered if they were being moved to another ship, or even if they will be put to death.

I was no closer to understanding our enemy, or figuring out where we were in relation to Earth.

I did get to recognize the people. Most of them had olive skin and dark hair, the type that southern Europeans and northern Africans had. There were a few fair-skinned folk with lightly colored hair, and two black-skinned people who presumably were descended from Africans living south of the Sahara. Almost everyone spoke Arabic; there were only a handful of English speakers.

I looked around, almost as if I was expecting for the layout of the room to change, for a door to suddenly appear out of nowhere.

But it did not happen.

I kept wondering what I could do, what we could do. We would not know where on this ship we would go. And even if we took over the alien vessel, how would we get back to Earth?

Unless a Space Marine platoon rescues us, or our captors exchange us for prisoners held on Earth, we would be at their mercy.

Ooooooooo

It was boring. The lights above us were constant; we had no watches, and there was no way to tell how much time there was. Some of the people tried to speak broken English with me. Aya- that was Sergeant Al Badri's first name- translated for me. I had learned dsome details of their lives. Most of them were Moroccan natives, while a few of them had immigrated from countries as diverse as Greece, Russia, and Ghana.

I wondered what was going on back on Earth. Did Jack and the others know I was missing? And what happened to Melissa?

Or had the enemy already conquered Earth?

The enemy guards took some of the prisoners away. I knew one of them- a man who worked at a factory in Casablanca, and who was raising a family. Some of the people taken away begged and screamed. None of the people that they took ever came back.

Were we to be used for slave labor? Or even food?

"I'm wondering how to get out of here," I said. "Maybe we can rush the guards when they come to take more prisoners away."

"And then what?" asked Aya. "Even if we break out of this room, where would we go? We're in a spaceship in deep space. And even if we managed to take over this ship before the crew self-destructs it, who would take this thing back to Earth? Or one of our space stations?"

I kept thinking. If I remembered correctly from the history of the First Robotech War, there had been some Earth people who had been captured by the Zentraedi, taken to their headquarters, and they all had managed to escape and get back to Earth. I briefly wondered if we could do the same thing. Then I remembered the Zentraedi were giants, and the Earth prisoners hid in little nooks and crannies, and maybe even inside a box, to escape detection. And they were lucky to hitch a ride on an Earth-bound vessel. But the enemy here was roughly our size. We would not be able to hide from the ship's crew so easily.

"I hate this," I said. "I hate feeling so…so helpless."

"You shouldn't say that," said Aya.

But it was true. No matter how much I wished for it to be true, it was a fact that there was nothing I could do now. And wishing for a Space Marine rescue was as useful as wishing for the enemy to simply release us on Earth.

More and more of us were taken.

And then one of the guards was looking right at me.

They aimed their rifles at me and said something to me. I looked around. There was no way I could resist. I knew that the first fist raised in defiance would be met with gunfire.

And so I marched along with them. Aya was also going with us, along with this blind man who had to be led by hand. The corridors were brightly lit, as compared to the room in which we were held. I noticed a few crewmen walking past us. I wondered what society these people had. We kept marching and marching, walking through the corridors and riding in some lifts. I noticed writing on the walls and some of the doors; it would be as legible to me as Chinese symbols. I wondered if we were going in circles, as all of the corridors looked the same.

And then finally, after the longest while, we entered this huge room. The first thing I noticed were all of these tables, with something hanging from the ceiling directly over each table.

The guards pointed rifles out me and pointed to one of the tables. I guess I had to lie down.

And so I did.

My arms and legs were somehow restrained, and I could see a bright light above me, though for some reason, it did not hurt my eyes.

I then started feeling this buzz, I wondered if it was some sort of invisible field, or if they were drugging me. Everything, sight, sound, even smell, became blurry.

I was seeing images, and kept hearing sounds. The sounds coalesced into a phrase.

"We are the Robotech Masters, and you shall fight for us," I heard.

I kept seeing more sights and heard more sounds. I saw images of Jamaica and my friends and family there, images of Jack and the others, images of Melissa, random scenes, scenes of space battles with huge spaceships, flashes of light, and explosions, more battle scenes in forests, deserts and plains, with huge war machines duking it out amid explosions.

And then these sights, sounds, and smells seemed to melt together, like the ingredients of a sauce being combined. It was if I could somehow smell space and hear light itself, felt myself falling down, up, and sideways, and past, present, and future were all condensed.

I could not tell how long I was in that state. But then everything slowly became clearer and clearer. It seemed to take the longest time.

I could see darkness above me and feel something soft below me. I could smell something akin to burning brimstone. I moved my hands and felt some hard surfaces nearby. I felt myself breathe; the air was somewhat warm. The only light came from glowing dots above me.

I felt disoriented as I stumbled around. My hands felt something with the consistency of dirt. I looked at my hands and they were concealed in these gloves. I looked around and saw the enemy bioroids around us.

I wondered what was going on.

I then heard voices and footsteps. I could look and see soldiers in sandy camouflage; many of them bore flashlights. Were they the enemy? What was going on?

"Everyone drop your weapons and put your hands up!" yelled one of them, in accented English.

I soon boarded this truck with al these other people. Aya Al Badri was among us. We were all dressed in these alien flight suits. For the longest time I felt the truck rumble along. I felt too energized to feel sleepy.

"All right you people!" yelled a soldier. "Get off."

And we did. As I looked up, I noticed that the sky was getting lighter. We were all herded into this giant building. The interior was dimly lit, I could tell that it was a Quonset hut.

"I wonder where we are," I said.

"Somewhere on Earth, I think," said Aya.

For almost an hour, the only people inside were two soldiers bearing rifles. Then some more soldiers entered.

"I am Major Lane with the Australian Army," said one of the soldiers.

Australia? We were in Australia?

"You are all prisoners of war," he said. "As long as you comply with surrender, we will not hurt you. If you violate the terms of the surrender, we will kill you. We will provide you with food, water, and latrines."

"I am Lonarco," said one of the people with us. "I am with the Robotech Masters and I wish to defect to your world."

"Robotech Masters?" asked Major Lane.

"Yers," replied Lonarco. "I had studied this language that you call English. Do you speak for your rulers?"

"Yes, I do."

"I want to defect to your rulers. I will submit to their rule."

"Wait, sir," I said.

"What is it?" asked the Australian major.

I told him who I was. "I'm with the United Nations Army. I was captured in an attack in Casablanca and forced to fight for the enemy."

"Wait there," said Major Lane.

And so I did. Soon some soldiers came and set up tables to serve us breakfast. I did not feel very hungry, but I had some of the food- toast and bacon and eggs- and orange juice.

After a while, Major Lane came back. "You will come with us," he said.

And so I did. I looked around the Australian base. It looked very much like an Army base, with functional buildings and lampposts. The air felt a little warm. I saw a column of soldiers march along. Australia's flag flew from a flagpole, revealing red, white, and blue.

We went inside this building, passing a lobby with couches and desks, and into this conference room with chairs and a wooden meeting table An MP stood guard.

A woman with sandy brown hair entered the room. She was clad in a U.N. Army uniform.

"Lieutenant Lana LeGault with the Global Military Police," she said.

I introduced myself.

"You understand, Lieutenant, that you are required to tell the truth," she said.

"Yes, madam," I replied.

"Explain why you were piloting an enemy bioroid," said the lieutenant.

"Madam, I was captured during my leave in Casablanca," I said. "We were taken to this enemy space vessel. We were held captive there for I don't know how long. They took us one by one. When they took me, I was placed on a table and I think I was drugged or something. I only remember flashes from then until I found myself in Australia."

"Did you come into contact with the enemy prior to this?"

"No, madam."

"did you defect to the enemy?"

"No!" I protested, getting up. "They drugged me. The others will verify. Melissa."

"Who?"

"Melissa Sharp. She was my companion during my trip to Casablanca. If she's still alive she can verify that I was captured."

"Tell me more, Lieutenant," said Lieutenant LeGault. "Did you ever violate orders or regulations?"

"No, madam,"

"Did you ever go AWOL?"

"No, madam. I did my duty as an officer."

"Why did you not try to escape, Lieutenant?"

"I had no opportunity. I was on an enemy ship with armed troops. All of us were outnumbered. And we had no way of navigating the ship, let alone using its weapons to defend us from other enemy ships. And Lieutenant, there is something I should add. I remember that they claimed to be the Robotech Masters."

"Robotech Masters? I will make a note of that."

She turned around. "Where are you going, madam?"

"I have other business, Lieutenant."

Ooooooooo

"What happened?" I asked Aya as she was returned. I had been led back here after Lieutenant LeGault interrogated me, and the MP's took Aya away for interrogation.

"I told them I was from Morocco," she said. "We were captured in the attack."

"All we can do is wait," I said. "You know, when I went on that trip to Casablanca, I was with my girlfriend Melissa."

"Did she survive?"

"I don't know. She wasn't held prisoner with us." I though back to that morning. There was so much confusion as we tried to get away from the Robotech Masters. Did she hide somewhere safe?

We continued to stay in the Quonset hut, and the Australians continued to feed and water us. They even provided camp showers and latrines just outside. Day soon faded into night, and the locals gave us cots in which to sleep. I could barely sleep, wondering if Melissa was still alive.

The room was then lit with flashlights, and a female voice called my name.

"You are being taken into U.N. custody," Lieutenant LeGault said to me.

And so I was.


	12. Return to Tangier

I felt the C-130 Hercules transport plane land, the landing gears transferring the rumbling to the fuselage of the jet. A squad of MP's guarded me. Lieutenant Lana Le Gault was with them.

A few minutes after the plane stopped, I was led in chains into a waiting ambulance. Several police cars also were parked on the taxiway. The ambulance transported me to a hospital.

Inside the hospital, the doctors and nurses did all sorts of tests, from drawing blood and taking blood pressure to doing brain scans.

"You feeling okay," asked LeGault.

"Yeah," I said.

"Your chain of command will decide if you are court-martialed for treason."

"Treason?" I asked.

"You were piloting the enemy bioroids, Lieutenant."

I stayed in this hospital room, which, like most hospital rooms that I have seen, looked sterile. I supposed it was better than staying in a Quonset hut or a stockade cell. As I lay down on the bed, I wondered what happened. How long was I with the enemy? How many of my people had I killed? And not just while piloting the enemy bioroid, but while fighting them. Were most of the bioroids piloted by captured Earth natives?

Meals were served in the hospital room; the MP's refused to let me leave. The meal was beef in this slightly spicy sauce, served with greens and a plastic cup filled with water. Soon after my meal was done, I was transferred. After a short ride in a police car, I was transferred to a holding cell in the basement of the Global Military Police field office. It was a plain holding cell; someone scribbled "GMP Sucks" on the concrete wall.

"I get a phone call, right?" I asked LeGault.

And so I made a phone call to my parents from a pay phone just outside the holding cell. I managed to get their answering machine. I told them that I was all right, for now. Well, there was not much to do in a holding cell in a police station. I remember, from regulations, that they would have to contact my commanding officer, who would be Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera.

Or was it? Was he still alive? What had happened on Earth since I was gone? How long was I gone?

That night as I slept, I dreamed of combat. I felt as if I were actually _the_ enemy bioroid, blasting Earth ships and troops both on Earth and in space.

A while later, Lieutenant Le Gault arrived with some uniformed investigative aides.

"The Second Division has ordered you to be remanded into custody pending review," she said as one of the aides unlocked the cell door. "We have a plane waiting for you on the tarmac."

And so I was transferred. I was hustled out to the back into a waiting Toyota Avalon police car, and then driven to the tarmac of the air base where a Lockheed C-130 Hercules awaited. I was strapped in by the MP's, and I noticed there were boxes full of cargo.

"We're expecting a long trip," said Le Gault.

And it was. I spent hours on that plane. I knew that the Air Force had faster aircraft, but I guess transport of a prisoner only rates a C-130. There were at least two stops, where I had to wait at a Military Airlift Command terminal, under guard with only some crackers to eat and water to drink.

After what seemed like a day, I was placed in a paddy wagon. There were no windows, so I could not see outside. Finally, after so much time spent on planes, waiting in terminals, and riding in a paddy wagon, I reached my destination.

I scanned my surroundings when the investigative aides took me out of the wagon. From the landmarks, I recognized that I was back in Gibraltar Base.

I was taken to a building, through a door marked "Prisoner Processing"; I knew this was the base's stockade. I found myself in a room with a desk. An Army MP stood guard. I looked at the calendar, and I noticed it was March, about two months after I had been captured.

Another MP arrived, a first lieutenant.

Lieutenant Le Gault signed a piece of paper.

"So Second Division is remanding custody to us," said the military police lieutenant.

"Yes," said Le Gault. "He's in your hands now. Now to get to my guest quarters."

"Follow me, sir," said a sergeant.

And so I did. He escorted me through hallways and into this hallway with cells on both side.

"This is where you are sleeping, sir," said the sergeant. "Shower facility is down the hall. Lights out is after supper. If you cause trouble, you go to the maximum security section."

"I will keep that in mind, Sergeant," I replied.

I sat down in the cell. There was not much to it, just a bunk and concrete walls. I noticed another prisoner sitting in the cell across from me.

"I'd salute you, sir," he said, "but prisoners aren't allowed to salute. I advise you keep to yourself."

The stockade was for short-term confinement and confinement for prisoners awaiting trial, like I was. I knew elsewhere on base there was a disciplinary barracks for long-term confinement, falling under the authority of the Army's Provost Marshal General. I wondered if I would end up there. It would be just a short drive. But I knew of other disciplinary barracks with much greater security measures, like one located deep underground somewhere in Russia.

Ooooooo

The next day, I had my first breakfast. All of us prisoners were dressed in these bright orange jumpsuits. Breakfast is similar to what is served when Army units camp out in the field. I knew that some of the inmates serving confinement for court-martial or nonjudicial punishment worked in the stockade's kitchen. It was also the one place where male and female inmates work together; the male and female inmates had their own separate cell blocks, exercise yards, and messes, and the male and female messes had a common kitchen.

Some MP's approached the man who slept in the cell across from me.

"Okay, Neil," said the military police sergeant. "Time for your work release."

I somewhat envied Neil. Prisoners serving sentences and nonjudicial punishment often got work release where they served with their unit during the work day, only coming back here for supper. Work release, of course, was unavailable for those who are merely confined pending court-martial, and there is not much to do to amuse myself in a stockade.

I had wondered what was going on in division headquarters. Would they drag their feet deciding whether or not I should be court-martialed? And I wondered about legal representation. While the Army will not assign me an attorney unless they convened a court-martial, I could hire a civilian attorney at my expense.

But even with my combat bonus pay, would I be able to afford a top-notch civilian attorney?

"Excuse me, sir," a military police sergeant said to me, "someone wishes to see you. You will come with us."

And so I did. They escorted me through hallways into a visitors' room. The room was not much, just a room with some chairs divided by a glass partition. This was not the room that would be used for inmates meeting with their attorneys.

Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera sat on the other side of the partition.

"I will be asking a few questions, Micronian," said the colonel. "Why were you flying the enemy bioroid?"

"I was captured, sir," I replied. "They drugged me and a few of the other prisoners."

"You were drugged?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is there anyone who can vouch for that?"

"One of the civilian prisoners, Aya Al Badri," I answered. "She was from Morocco. Colonel, we managed to somehow break free from their control in Australia. One of them claimed to be a defector from the enemy. And there was something else, sir. The enemy claimed to be the Robotech Masters."

"Robotech Masters?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where were you captured?"

"Casablanca," I said. "I was on a weekend trip with my girlfriend, Melissa Sharp. She was a therapist at the hospital here. It was the morning after that the enemy attacked."

"And where did the enemy take you?"

"To one of their ships."

"Anything you can say about it?"

"Not much, sir. It was…well, a ship. They had us in this huge room. I could see huge corridors and hallways, and there was this room where we were forced to lie down and where they drugged us, probably some sort of medical room. I saw the enemy; they looked human."

"And you say you were drugged into operating the bioroids."

"Yes, sir."

"And you were not offered any reward for defecting to their side."

"No, sir."

"And there was no way to escape."

"No, sir. We would not have been able to take the ship back home even if we could take over before the crew set the self-destruct sequence."

"And you know the ship had a self-destruct sequence?"

"No, sir. But it seemed reasonable that the ship would have a self-destruct in case they lost control of the ship to an enemy."

"That is all for now, Lieutenant," said Colonel Kravshera.

"What will happen?"

"This matter is being handled above my pay grade."

The colonel left the visiting room.

"All right, Lieutenant," said an MP. "Time for you to head back to the inmate area."

Oooooooo

Life inside the stockade was pretty much uneventful. I suspected that the MP's took some pleasure in ordering me around, as I was an officer and this would be one of the few situations where an enlistee has authority over an officer. No one else from the battalion had come to visit me. One moment I was dreading is someone coming to see me and identifying himself as my defense counsel; it would mean that the division had convened a court-martial for me. For what would I be tried? Desertion? Misbehavior as a prisoner? Or even treason? And how long could the Army hold me here without trial? The 2nd Division command had already remanded me into the custody of the military police of this base. I suppose I was still getting paid for just being in the stockade, it would take an order of nonjudicial punishment or a sentence by a court-martial to forfeit pay.

It was some time later, as I was eating dinner, that the MP's approached me, including the stockade officer. For a moment I wondered if I would be meeting with my defense counsel for my court-martial for treason.

"You are being released by order of the second division," said the military police officer. "You are to return to active duty. Report to the 6th ATAC Battalion office."

And so I did. They took me back to the prisoner processing room where I had to sign some forms, and then they gave me the outfit that I had been wearing when I was taken into custody. Leaving the stockade, I took a long walk through the streets of the base. I eventually reached the 6th Battalion office, which looked pretty much the same as before.

Entering the lobby, the front desk receptionist looked at me.

"And you are?" she asked, noting that I was out of uniform.

I told her who I was. "I was released from the stockade and I have to report to Colonel Kravshera," I said.

"Come on in."

I walked upstairs to the floor where the colonel's office was, passing a few uniformed soldiers. I went inside the main office of the battalion. It looked pretty much the same as it did the last time I was here, with cubicles where the battalion's office staff work at their stations.

Colonel Kravshera entered the office, dressed in his MARPAT camouflage. I saluted.

"Lieutenant," he said, returning the salute.

I reported for duty, and handed him a copy of the release form. "My apologies for being out of uniform, sir," I said. "I had been gone for two months."

"Emerson will take care of the details," said the colonel.

I looked and saw Jack Emerson in his MARPAT camouflage. He looked pretty much the same as before, with his short-cropped dark hair. One thing I noticed were the brass oak leaves on his collar; he was an Army major.

"Major Emerson," I said. "I am reporting back for duty."

"I should tell you that I am now the XO here," said Jack. "There have been a few changes since I have gone. Come into my office."

And so I did. We went in what used to be Major Yoon's office. It had a desk and three chairs as well as a bookcase and a file cabinet.

"At ease," said Jack, sitting down. "I have heard what had happened. The colonel forbade us from visiting you in the stockade. You were still under investigation for a possible court-martial."

"And yet the division commander decided to release me," I said.

"From what I have heard, the Robotech Masters were using prisoners in their bioroids," said the major. "It is believed that the bioroids use a mental control system."

"Yeah, there were other people from Earth who were captured in Australia besides me," I said. "So you believe that the enemy is indeed the Robotech Masters?"

"That is what RDFCOM intelligence has deduced. Why they are here, I don't know. They're not attacking the Zentraedi Nation, and they haven't attacked our colonies, or even our base on Tirol."

Then I asked him one question that I had wanted answered since my capture. "Is Melissa Sharp still alive?" I asked.

"Yes, she is," said Jack. "She contacted me about you being missing after the attack in Casablanca."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wanted to see her. "Where were you guys?"

"We received the order to scramble and support the Moroccans after the attack started," said Jack. "But we were pinned down by the enemy bioroids on the outskirts of the city. Then the enemy retreated. I guess what they wanted was prisoners, and they retreated as soon as they had prisoners. If only we could have broken through their defense."

"I'm here now," I said.

"Listen, I will have you take the rest of the week off. You will report back to duty on Monday, or if we go into full tactical alert. Get yourself new uniforms, Lieutenant. I'll have you assigned to your old room. And by the way, on Saturday I'm inviting you to a barbecue at my new house."

"A new house?" I asked.

"I'm a major now, so I get a new housing assignment. My own private, two-bedroom house, the typical assignment for a major with no dependents."

"See you at the barbecue, Jack."

I went out to the main office. I came across Rebekah Avital, looking much the same as before. I noticed that she was a master sergeant now.

"Congratulations on your new position, Master Sergeant," I said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she replied.

"Anything new happen since I was gone?"

"There were a few transfers in, a few transfers out," she replied. "Corporal Glenn La Belle was killed in combat three weeks ago."

I remembered him; he was in the 18th ATAC troop. "He was married, right?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. His widow moved back to her family after the funeral."

I remembered the guy. He fought with us, and helped around the office.

"I will see you later, Master Sergeant," I said.

Oooooooo

I had gone to the base's uniform store to purchase two spare uniforms – a Class "A" service uniform and before stashing it in my quarters. My quarters looked like the typical bachelor's quarters for junior officers- a single bedroom with an attached bathroom. I was grateful that the BOQ had not been bombed in my absence. There was one question burning.

Putting on my Class "A" uniform, I went to the base's medical center. It looked pretty much the same as before, aside from a fresh coat of new paint. I entered the door nearest to where Melissa would work.

The lobby had a reception desk, with chairs and tables. Magazines sat on the tables. The walls were decorated with posters, some of them recruitment posters for the Air Force Medical Corps, and other color-illustrated posters with information on physical therapy. A man in his early twenties and dressed in a light blue outfit manned the reception desk.

"Is there a Lieutenant Melissa Sharp here?" I asked.

"Let me check, sir," replied the man, whose rank insignia showed he was an airman first class. "There is no Lieutenant Sharp here, sir."

"I know she worked here three months ago."

"Three months ago, Lieutenant?" asked the airman. "If there was a Lieutenant Sharp here, she could be in the local personnel files." He typed in a few letters. "According to the personnel file, she was transferred to Tirol Base a month ago."

"Tirol Base?" I asked.

"Yeah. The military set up a base on this world. They say the Robotech Masters used to rule that world. Well, if you're looking for her, you'd have to go there. It could be rather expensive to book a flight to the new colony the government set up there."

"Thank you, Airman," I said.

I left the medical center, walking along the road. Melissa was gone, not even on Earth anymore. I looked up at the blue sky, wondering if I was looking in the direction of Tirol, wherever that was.


	13. Heavy Losses

I got off the base's shuttle bus and walked down the housing development. Company grade officers with dependents lived here, as well as field grade officers with no dependents. The houses were all one level, with driveways and a single-car garage. I went to the house with the number that Major Jack Emerson had given me.

I rang the doorbell. Jack answered the door, wearing jeans and a sweater.

"Welcome to my humble home," he said. "It's not much, but it's mine."

I was wearing black jeans and a black sweat shirt, as this was a very informal occasion.

"Great to see you," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers, looking as he did before, dressed in khaki pants and a green sweater with "ARMY" stenciled on it.

"How is life as a major?" I asked Jack.

"Well, I am still getting used to the pay increase," he answered. "I guess it's compensation for all the paperwork I have to do now that I'm the battalion XO."

"I'm in charge of the 18th now," said Mike. "I'm still a second lieutenant since I didn't have enough time in grade for a promotion. I guess Jack was lucky that there was an opening for a major _and_ a battalion XO."

I looked around Jack's new home. The living room had couches and a coffee table, and in the back was a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, a stove, and a microwave oven. There was a door that led to the bedrooms. Jack took some steaks that were sitting on the counter next to the stove.

"Let's start barbecuing," he said. And so he did.

We went outside to this small backyard. The ground was paved with concrete tiles. A wooden fence surrounded the backyard. Next to the house was this gas barbecue grill; two cylindrical tanks sat under the grill. Jack placed the steaks on the grill. Soon, the steaks started sizzling. Jack held a barbecue fork, poking the steak at times.

"How are things going between you and Nina?" I asked.

"Great," replied Jack. "It's convenient especially as I have my own house now. Everything about her, the way she smiles, the way we just get along together."

"You should have been at the party that celebrated his promotion," said Mike. "It was so wild. Jack's lucky he was not court-martialed for conduct unbecoming an officer and gentleman."

I could only imagine what Mike meant with that comment.

"How are things with Melissa?" asked Jack.

"She was transferred to Tirol Base," I answered. "At least she survived the attack on Casablanca. I've got to send a message to her." The memory of hearing about her transfer still tore at my soul. I changed the subject. "Have you ever heard of jerk cooking?"

"You mean like beef jerky?" asked Jack.

"It's a style of cooking in Jamaica. Meat is grilled and brushed with this spice called jerk spice. It's really spicy. One of the things my dad does is add extra jerk spice to his food. We had jerk style turkey this Christmas."

"Sounds tasty," said Mike.

"There are plenty of places in Jamaica that serve jerk cooking. I know there are Jamaican restaurants in foreign cities like London and Miami. I don't know if there are any here in Tangier."

"I suppose I could afford a trip to Jamaica after we win this war," said Jack.

After a few minutes, the steaks were done. They were served on white paper plates, with some of the juice soaking into the plate, and I sat down on a folding chair, eating the steak from a plate that I placed on a folding table.

"This is good," I said, swallowing the slice of steak.

"And here's more good stuff," said Jack, coming from the house, carrying a cardboard case filled with Corona beers. "Something to wash down those greasy steaks."

I used a bottle opener to open one of the Corona bottles and sipped down the ice-cold beer. It was a great way to relax, especially after all that I had been through the past two months.

"So what are the natives on your planet like?" I asked Mike. I had seen pictures of the people that he called scalies. "The scalies?"

"That depends," said Mike, cutting out a slice of steak. "The scalies living within a hundred miles of the colony are basically hunter-gatherers with primitive tools. There are other tribes of scalies that follow their herds and ride in chariots, other scalies that live in small towns and scratch dirt for food, and there's even a kingdom with over five million of them, complete with towns and cities."

"Ever visited them?"

"Only the ones living near the colony. I've only seen pictures and video footage of scalies in other parts of the world. It is amazing that there are so many humans on Earth, even more than scalies on Glorie."

"I've never been to another planet. I've never even been to space until my capture."

"Well, if you stay in the Army, you could be deployed to the other side of the galaxy in a moment's notice."

"Yeah," I said. Just like Melissa, I thought to myself as I sipped my beer. I wondered to what she was up on Tirol Base. I recalled hearing or reading about a small colony there, as part of the Human Diaspora Project run by the UEG.

After an indeterminate amount of time, we had finished the steaks, the case of Coronas, and even the Lay's potato chips that Jack had brought out. We all went back inside the house.

"Don't mess this place up, okay," he said. "We don't have a crew of enlistees available to clean up the place."

He went to the giant plasma television in the living room and turned on a plastic-encased device near the TV. He held a microphone and this image appeared on the screen, with the title "It's Your Time to Be a Star". Jack held this microphone, which apparently had a wireless connection with the video game system.

"So you got the new Nintendo?" asked Mike.

"It was on sale at the PX," said Jack. "I got a couple other games with this. With this game, you could download songs to sing." Jack selected a song from the song list. "Let's put this piece of robotechnology to action."

And he then sang this rap song whose lyrics appeared on the screen and were highlighted in yellow even as the notes radiated from the speakers and filled the living room.

"That was great," said Mike.

"Why don't you try it?" Jack asked me. "Maybe we can play some of that reggae music." He selected one of the songs and gave me the microphone. "All right, go for it."

And so I did. Reggae tunes radiated from the speakers, and I tried to follow the lyrics as they were highlighted in yellow.

"Everything's gonna be all right," I sang. I sang for a few minutes, trying my best to sound like the reggae bands that sing in bars in Kingston.

"You're no Lin Minmei," said Mike after I was done.

We had a few more beers after that.

Oooooooo

I was in my quarters on base, reading a book. It was Sunday, and most of the battalion had the day off. I had done research into booking flights to Tirol Colony; they cost tens of thousands of dollars. Interstellar travel was understandably expensive. My brother and parents would not be able to afford interstellar travel even once a year. I had sent e-mail to Melissa; hyperspatial bandwith was very limited so I could not call her.

"Lieutenant," I heard a voice say.

I looked and saw a young man in MARPAT camouflage. He had corporal's chevrons on his sleeve. I wondered what he was doing here in officer country.

"Yes, Corporal?" I asked.

"We're under full tactical alert, sir," he said. "Report to headquarters."

And so I did. As I walked along the streets of the base, I noticed activity was bustling, with soldiers and vehicles moving every which way.

A few minutes later, I reached the battalion headquarters, dressed in my MARPAT camouflage.

"What is going on?" I asked Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital, clad in her MARPAT.

"We have been ordered to full tactical alert," she answered. "It came straight from HQ RDFCOM."

"Okay then," I said.

"Excuse me, sir, I have to make sure all the hovertanks are ready to go."

And so she did, leaving the main office.

"Good to see you here, Lieutenant," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. "Make yourself busy."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

And so I did. I had to keep track of all the supplies and equipment we were using as we prepared for whatever was to happen. After all, supplies were integral to our ability to perform combat operations. We did not even take our meals at the mess; MRE's and water were delivered to us and we ate them on the short breaks that we had. We were all working to the brink of exhaustion.

After all that detail work, it was my turn to sleep. I did not sleep in my quarters, as Colonel Kravshera had us sleep in the office so we could be ready to deploy at a moment's notice. I slept in a sleeping bag provided to us by our logistics company. While it was convenient for us to have flush toilets nearby, it was much less comfortable to sleep in the bags that sleeping on cots.

I had to visit the garage where the command group's hovertanks were stored. It looked like the other garages, with hovertanks parked in hovertank mode and lighting coming from fluorescent lamps overhead.

"Lieutenant," a corporal dressed in MARPAT said to me. "Here is your hovertank, sir."

I sat inside a hovertank, looking at the controls. Then I went back to work, doing my part in handling paperwork and running between the office and the sergeants who were supervising the troops.

After a while, when I was on break, Mike spoke to me.

"There's a broadcast," he said. "Big news."

And so I watched this broadcast on the Toshiba plasma color television. I saw United Nations Secretary General Wyatt Moran on the screen, standing behind a podium. I recognized Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard, clad in his green uniform, standing at his right. I noticed that they looked tired.

"We have completed a major offensive against the Robotech Masters," said Secretary General Moran. "Our defensive space fleet, combined with ground-based air wings, launched an offensive against the enemy yesterday at 3:00 P.M. Central Time. I have been meeting with my advisors since then. We have dealt a blow to the enemy, and we expect this to lay the foundation of crushing the enemy in orbit."

"Have you launched offensives against enemy territory?" asked a reporter. "Taken out their supply bases?"

"I have been informed that the enemy is presently cut off from their supply lines," said Moran. "We plan to continue supply interdiction operations, and our expeditionary forces will continue their search to destroy any enemy supply bases. If you will excuse me, Supreme Commander Leonard will take more questions."

"Any word on casualties?" asked another reporter.

"We expect there to be casualties, reports are still coming," said Leonard. "I want to thank the men and women who fought to protect our world and our community of nations."

"Looks like we missed out," said Mike.

Ooooooo

After a long time, we were finally ordered down from full tactical alert. But it was not time for me to rest just yet; I was still on duty until my shift ended. Jack was in command.

"We might have to do this again," he said, sitting in his office. "I wonder if that's how the enemy intends to win, by wearing us down like this."

I too could feel the exhaustion over the past three days, ever since we went into full tactical alert. "I hope we are wearing them down, sir."

I looked around. All there was to do was busy work, like the private vacuuming the carpet of the main office. I looked at a stack of reports through which I would have to go.

I wondered what Melissa was doing. Was she all right? I wonder how she felt being on another planet. She must have been excited at first, but the excitement would surely have faded by now.

Oooooooooo

One day, after my shift was over, I went back to the men's BOQ. I was glad for some relaxation. I was in the rec room watching some action movie with a lot of explosions and stuff and very little plot.

"Jack wants to see us at his house," said Mike.

"Sure," I said. The movie was not that interesting anyway.

So we went to Jack's house at the family housing project; it was dusk when we arrived. He opened the front door.

"Hi Jack," said Mike. "Anything new?"

"Nina …Nina's dead," said Jack. "She was killed in the offensive against the Robotech Masters."

I was stunned. I remembered Nina. She was a fine pilot and a fine lady. And now she was gone and not coming back. "I'm sorry," I softly said.

"Listen, the colonel ordered me to take paid leave," said Jack. "I'm going to Monument City; there will be a memorial service there. My flight leaves tonight. I ask that you two take care of the house. I ask this not as your superior officer, but as a friend."

"Sure," we said.

I knew Jack was crying on the inside.


	14. Who's In Command Now?

I started shooting some more targets. And then another. And then another. They all disappeared in a ball of fire, lighting up the landscape of grass, trees, and rocks with orange and red.

The exercise was finished, and I stepped out of the simulator cockpit. I could see the technicians of sim company in their MARPAT camouflage monitoring their equipment.

"You did well, sir," said Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital, also dressed in MARPAT camouflage.

"As you were, Master Sergeant," I said. I went back to the officers' locker room to change out of my doublet. It was much more fun than handling paperwork in the office. I wondered when the next live-fire exercise would be.

Ooooooo

After a hard day's work, I was relaxing in the O-club, sipping a beer with the guys. It was not too crowded that day. Memories of my former captivity still cast a shadow over me, even as I took another cold sip.

I saw Jack enter the room, wearing a sweater and jeans.

"Good to see you back," I said.

"Thanks for taking care of my house, you guys," he said.

"It wasn't a big deal for us," said Mike.

"Did you like sleeping in the house?"

"It was okay," I said.

His house did allow greater privacy than the men's BOQ. Hanging with the guys was cool, but sometimes a dude needs just a little privacy and quiet sometimes. I enjoyed just taking naps on the bed. It was almost like a mini-vacation, at least when I was off duty. Plus, it was good sometimes just to have a snack for supper rather than going to the officers' mess. But I guessed that I get to sleep in my tiny room at the men's BOQ again.

And I wondered how Jack was doing. He seemed quieter than usual; he did not even go up to the karaoke jockey to try and sing a song. He was putting up a smile.

I wondered what he did on his leave to Monument City. I figured he stayed with his dad there. Did he spend all those nights crying himself to sleep?

Ooooooooo

Sometime the next day, Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera called the headquarters staff to a briefing at the main office. We all stood at attention facing him, and Major Jack Emerson and Master Sergeant Avital stood at Kravshera's sides.

"Listen up," said the colonel. "I just received an order from Colonel Trautman's office at regiment headquarters. We and the rest of the regiment are to prepare for a potential offensive against an enemy ground position. We will coordinate with the other battalions and the Military Airlift Command to get into position."

I recalled some of the reports; we should be ready to deploy.

"Inform all troops and companies," said Kravshera.

"Yes, sir," we all said.

We spent the next few hours or so making sure everything was tidy, that the hovertanks were working, that the ammo, equipment, and supplies were ready to go, and other things. Master Sergeant Avital and the other sergeants were working the soldiers even harder than usual. And I had to do my part to check and file all the paperwork and even go around the troops.

And finally we were ready to go, with the hovertanks and supplies and equipment being mounted on trucks.

It was a long journey by road and rail, with local soldiers escorting us. I remembered reading somewhere that the King of Morocco had agreed to allow United Nations forces to use the highways and railways of the kingdom for transporting personnel, supplies, and equipment from the U.N. bases in Morocco to the battlefield.

In my mind, there was some stress. Would I be captured again by the Robotech Masters? I looked at a few other officers with whom I was riding.

"Anyone up for a game of poker after we beat the enemy?" asked a young lady who was a butter bar.

"I just hope I still have enough fingers to hold the cards," said a male lieutenant, whose name I knew as Volchek.

Humor like that did ease the tension a bit.

It was after a long journey that we reached the fallback point- where all of the troops would withdraw should things go pear-shaped. Already, some battalions were setting up tents and Quonset huts. We were in the desert, though it was just warm, not blazing hot, on account of the earliness of the year. Once again, we unloaded, with Sergeant Avital and the other sergeants barking orders to the junior enlisted soldiers as they unloaded the ammo, supplies, and equipment. A perimeter was quickly established, and soldiers in full gear patrolled; I did not envy them. As for my part, it was doing more paperwork like any third lieutenant would do in a combat battalion when not fighting the enemy or training to fight.

Neither Colonel Kravshera nor Major Emerson was with us at this moment; they were attending a briefing with the regiment's staff.

"At least the change of scenery is nice," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"Yeah," I said, looking beyond the perimeter to the seemingly endless desert beyond.

Even as more soldiers, supplies, and equipment arrived by truck and helicopter, a sergeant announced to us, "Chow time, everyone!"

And we were served our chow, which was simply MRE's. We were not expected to stay here for long, so no mess tents were set up.

"Nothing like an MRE for lunch," said Lieutenant Volchek, sticking a plastic fork into the aluminum container.

It was better than starving, and that was all I could say or write about it.

Colonel Kravshera and Major Emerson came out to greet us; all of us not on a work detail stood at attention.

"All hovertank drivers get ready for action," he said.

And so we did. I started my hovertank's engine and glanced at the gauges. Kravshera then led us out. I was assigned to be with the command group, as extra mechanical muscle. After a few minutes of driving, we reached our destination, which looked out over a wide expanse of desert. I could clearly see the enemy encampments, with the parked enemy spaceships and bioroids and enemy infantry.

I did not even need to hear the announcement to know that the attack started. I saw explosions and plumes of smoke. Some veritech fighter jets moved in and transformed into helicopters- they were Ajaxes. I had read about Ajaxes on the way here, reading about how they can provide close infantry support, close air support, and air interception duties.

"Okay, the enemy is being engaged," said the colonel. "All troops close in."

And we did. We got closer and changed into battloid mode, making a solid wall ofVHT-1 Spartas battloids. We delivered volleys of fire at the Robotech Masters' forces. The thick smoke made it difficult to see our targets.

"18th, cover my flank," said Kravshera. "17th, lay cover fire for the infantry!"

"Enemy reinforcements coming from south-southeast," I heard a voice say. "They're approach…ahhhhhh!"

"More reinforcements?" asked Jack.

"All units, keep it together," said Colonel Trautman, speaking to all of the battalions in the regiment. "Able Squadron will move to intercept."

"Here they come!" yelled Colonel Kravshera. "Command group, provide cover fire for the 18th as they engage the enemy."

And we did, transforming into guardian mode.

"We are getting coordinates," said Kravshera. "Open fire."

I looked at the HUD and fired upwards, the rounds flying in an arc before hitting the ground.

"All right, command group, let's change position," said Kravshera.

"Incoming!" yelled Avital.

We all scrambled to move out of the way. I heard some explosions and my vision was obscured with smoke.

"Is everyone all right?" asked Jack.

"I think so," I replied.

"Colonel?' asked Sergeant Avital. "What is your status?"

Through the smoke I could see an overturned hovertank.

"Cover me!" I yelled.

I leaped out of the cockpit of my hovertank. I felt as if I was on some sort of automatic pilot. I did not deviate from my course even as explosions rang around me, kicking up rocks and dirt and showering me with some of it.

I ran to the fallen figure next to the hovertank, pulling him away. I heard myself say, "You'll be safe, sir", though I did not feel myself say it.

I removed the helmet and saw Colonel Kravshera's face. He winced a smile.

At least he was alive for now.

And then came a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter with the red cross logo. I ran to the helicopter. Army medics rushed out to meet me even before the helicopter's landing gears had made contact with the rocky ground.

"We'll take over from here, sir," said a sergeant with a red cross armband on her left sleeve.

I watched as they loaded the colonel onto the helicopter, presumably to fly him to the theater emergency room. I ran back to where my hovertank was parked, hopping into the cockpit and checking the instrumentation.

"We've orders to retreat," said Jack.

A retreat did not mean we turned tail and ran. Instead, we slowly pulled back, firing on the enemy. I could see the Ajax veritech battloids at the very front, with other Ajaxes in helicopter mode providing close air support. Hover-transports carrying infantry left the battlefield, with at least one soldier firing a high-caliber machine gun at the enemy bioroids. More artillery fire was delivered. We crept back from the battlefield.

I saw one of the enemy ship take off and fly towards the sky. I then saw several streaks of smoke head right at the ship, turning it into a bright fireball. I focused on shooting whatever enemy targets that I could lock on. The fighting continued for some time even after we reached our fallback position, which was fortified with portable blockhouses and machine gun and cannon emplacements.

And then the fighting died down. There was tension for a while; I had wondered if this was the eye of the hurricane .

It was not until nightfall that most of the regiment stood down, save for a few soldiers on watch.

Oooooooo

I went to the Quonset hut that served as the theater hospital. I could glimpse through the windows the hectic activity inside, with doctors, nurses, and orderlies trying to save lives.

A man in his late thirties to early forties approached the hospital. I could see he had the eagle insignia of an O-6 colonel; the name on his lapel identified him as Colonel Trautman, commander of the regiment. I stood and saluted, and he saluted me back.

Then an orderly in a blue outfit went out of the hospital, put on his cover, and saluted me. I returned the salute.

"Colonel Kravshera would like to see you, sir," said the orderly.

I went inside the hospital. There were curtains everywhere. Some of the people were even missing limbs.

I looked and saw the lavender shape of Lupon Kravshera lying down on a bed. He had tubes going into his arms and a bag with this red fluid was held up by this stainless steel stand. A bandage covered the left side of his head. The colonel seemed to be in one piece.

"Please don't take too long, Lieutenant," said a nurse.

"How are you feeling, sir?" I asked.

"Messed up," replied Colonel Kravshera. "I owe you my life, Micronian."

"Not just me, sir," I said.

"We lost another one," I heard someone say, perhaps a doctor or a nurse.

"These doctors and nurses and orderlies, you owe them your life too," I continued. "They're the real heroes, sir."

Indeed they were. I could only admire their dedication to fight despite the odds, to work continuously for up to fourteen hours at a time to save people's lives and limbs.

"Yes, Lieutenant, they are."

I left the hospital. Jack and Sergeant Avital were waiting outside.

"Colonel Kravshera is alive, and he needs to rest," I said.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good to know," he said. "I just got out of a debriefing with the regiment commander."

"What do we do now, sir?" asked Master Sergeant Avital.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because, Major Emerson, you are in command now, sir."


	15. Floating Duck

"How are you doing so far, Jack?" I asked.

We were having dinner in the officers' mess. The dinner that I was eating was a ground beef casserole with tomatoes and bell peppers. Jack was having some sort of fish, perhaps tilapia or cod.

"Everything's going great," said Major Jack Emerson.

The first few days after we returned kept us busy, as we unpacked everything and made sure to keep a record of it, some of it resulting in me being buried in paperwork for hours. Things have slowed down a bit, to as slow as a military combat unit could be during wartime; I had noticed Jack had been spending a lot of time out of the office.

And yet he was still reeling over Nina's death, and to top that off Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera was wounded and we did not even know if he would return to duty. Jack had not spent much time in grade to earn a promotion to lieutenant colonel under normal circumstances, and we would expect another lieutenant colonel to take command if Kravshera could not return to duty, but these were not normal times. I remembered reading somewhere that some of the officers and enlistees who served in the SDF-1 campaign got rapidly promoted.

"Just take care," I said. "You were training for this."

"I know," replied Jack. "I took some graveyard shifts before, but now I have complete charge. At least I know you and Lieutenant Chalmers and Master Sergeant Avital will support me."

Ooooooo

One afternoon, Jack was meeting with me in his office about some matter dealing with the readiness of the battalion.

"Yes," said Jack, looking towards the door where Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital was waiting.

"May I come in and talk to you alone?"

"I trust the lieutenant here," said Jack, referring to me. "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of him. Just remember that what you say and hear stays in this office."

"Yes, sir," answered Avital, closing the door. "I have reservations about your command style."

"What reservations, Master Sergeant?" asked Jack, leaning back against his chair.

"You spent most of last day at logistics company."

"Logistics is very important to our combat readiness, Avital. I need to know how things are going. And Lieutenant Proudcloud tells me everything is going well."

"You don't need to look over the shoulders of the soldiers as they do their jobs, like you did when you were standing behind that clerk. I don't do that anymore; I leave that for the sergeants and staff sergeants. Yes, I understand that you have to meet with the troop and company captains. And yes, I understand this is the first time you had the responsibility to command an entire battalion. But you have to learn when to let us do our jobs, Major. That's as important as knowing when to tell us what to do."

The master sergeant did have a point here. Jack had a lot of responsibilities now that he was in command.

"Thank you for your advice, Master Sergeant Avital," said Jack. "I am sure you have important work to do. Dismissed. Both of you."

"Yes, sir," we replied, standing at attention and presenting arms.

oooooo

I walked along the sidewalk on the street in the family housing project, where soldiers with dependents were billeted. Houses lined the streets, with cars parked in some of the driveways. I approached one of the homes, a two-story house.

I rang the door, and a dark-haired woman answered it. I introduced myself.

"We were expecting you," she said.

I got a message from Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera, inviting me to his home. I wore casual clothes- jeans and a short-sleeved green collared shirt, as this was definitely not official military business. The woman who answered the door was his wife; I remembered meeting her at the Christmas party on base months ago.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the house was the prevalence of little kids' plastic toys, some of them in corners, others sitting in the middle of the wooden floor. Two kids, a boy with black hair and a girl with purple hair ran around. Neither of them looked to be more than six years old.

"Who is the man, Mommy?" asked the girl.

"A friend of your daddy's," replied Mrs. Kravshera.

I then saw the colonel.

He was not in military uniform. He wore shorts and a T-shirt and a cast on his left foot. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and a man in his late fifties to early sixties with streaks of gray in his black hair pushed the wheelchair to the living room. His skin was a ruddy brown, and it looked like harsh weather drew a pattern of lines on his face.

"Welcome to my home," said Colonel Kravshera. "You've met my wife Leslie."

"Yes," replied Leslie Kravshera. "I remember this young man from that Christmas party." She looked at me. "I thank you for saving my husband's life."

"You are welcome," I said in reply. It was hard to believe that happened almost a month ago. "He would do the same for me and his people."

The two kids ran up to me.

"Thank this man for saving daddy," said Mrs. Kravshera.

"Thank you," said the boy.

"And you are?" I asked the older man.

"Call me Johnny," he answered, clad in a plaid shirt and Levi's jeans. "I'm Leslie's father. I flew in from Arizona to help her take care of Lupon. So you are a soldier."

"Yes, sir," I said. "A third lieutenant and a VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertank driver."

"I too am a veteran, Arizona National Guard, infantry, staff sergeant. I fought in the Global Civil War about thirty years ago."

I remembered learning about the war from history classes. "What was that war about?"

"I don't know," replied Johnny. "It was over so many reasons, and there were as many as six sides. One nation that was an ally one day would be an enemy the next day. All we accomplished was killing over a billion people and destroying so much of the planet. And there was never a real peace treaty. Sure, there was a truce among the big nations after that ship crashed here, but fighting continued in places like eastern Europe and central America."

"I've prepared lunch," said Mrs. Kravshera.

"You know, ma'am," I added, "in the Army we can lunch dinner and dinner supper."

"I'm an Army wife, Lieutenant."

She set up lunch at the dining table. There were tortilla chips and salsa, some tacos and other dishes, and this kind of bread. I tried it; it tasted different from most bread.

"That's corn bread," said Mrs. Kravshera. "It's a classic from the American Southwest, dating back before Columbus was a gleam in his daddy's eye."

"It tastes different," I said.

"The kids love it, though. I always tell them to behave good or else they don't get corn bread. I've also learned to cook new recipes."

"You know, Mrs. Kravshera, there's an Italian-Spanish-Lebanese fusion restaurant in Tangier. You might try going there for dinner some time. And I mean dinner as in the evening."

"Is everything all right back at the office?" asked Colonel Kravshera, taking a taco.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Jack, uh Major Emerson, he's growing into the role of battalion commander. Last time I checked, we were combat ready."

"I know the Army wasn't Emerson's first choice," said the colonel. "But he's able to do well."

And we talked some more. They learned about my life in Jamaica, even about jerk cuisine, and I learned about Mrs. Kravshera's old life in Arizona, before she got married.

"I joined the National Guard to get a chance to leave the rez once in a while and have the state pay for it," said Johnny. "Then I was overseas for a year at a time. I don't know if I would have left Jamaica though. It seems too much like paradise to want to join the military and be deployed on the other side of the world."

"Only parts of Jamaica are paradise," I said. "The interior is known for shantytowns and poverty."

"Sounds like the Arizona back country, away from the cities and the big ranches."

"Not all problems can be solved with guns," said Mrs. Kravshera. "But this war is probably one of those problems."

None of us had to speak it, but the war will be decided in space. Whoever controlled the space around Earth would be the winner.

Johnny was outside, a glass of cold beer in his hand.

"How do you like Morocco?" I asked.

"I was surprised when I first saw the scenery," said Johnny. ""I thought the whole place would be a desert."

"The desert is behind the mountains," I said.

"Yeah. A lot of people think desert when thinking of Arizona, and I don't blame them. A lot of the rez- the Navajo reservation- is desert. Phoenix and Tucson are in the middle of the desert. But we have grass and forests too in Arizona. I once worked at a ski resort near Flagstaff when I was sixteen."

"I worked a hot dog stand on the beach near Kingston when I was that age," I said.

"You have brothers and sisters?"

"One brother, Paul. He lives with his wife and son in Jamaica."

"I had a kid brother. He wanted to be an astronaut. He joined the Spacy and became an aviator, flying one of those transforming planes. He was killed during the SDF-1 campaign."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Some of the soldiers in our battalion were killed in combat."

"It wasn't until after the war was over that I learned about his death. The Zentraedi started living among us, some of them even shrinking to our size. I wasn;t concerned at first, there weren't too many Zentraedi wanting to live in northern Arizona, most of them settled in places like New York and Detroit. A lot of them went into the U.N. military, as they were warriors bred from a clone chamber. The U.N. had a base near Flagstaff, and that was how Lupon met my Leslie."

"They seem to be happy."

"I didn't agree with the relationship. My daughter was marrying an alien, an alien who fought against us. She might have been marrying her uncle's killer. I only went to the wedding because I didn't want her to hate me, and because of the food. It took a long time for me to get over it, to stop hating that she married a Zentraedi."

"The war'sover. The Zentraedi Nation is now a member of the United Nations."

We went back into the house. Soon all the food was finished.

"Mrs. Kravshera, thank you for this," I said to her.

"It was my pleasure having guests over," said Mrs. Kravshera.

"It was her idea," said Colonel Kravshera. "You had a duty to rescue me, just like I had the duty to do the same for you and the others. But you rescued her husband, and that's why you were entitled to a reward. For as long as I remembered, I thought that fighting was the meaning for life. But living among Micronians, and raising Micronian children, experiencing their cultures, I knew what I was fighting for."

"Good bye," said the Kravshera kids.

Ooooooo

The next afternoon, just about an hour before the day shift ended, Jack made an announcement.

"We need to get the troop and company captains here for a meeting," said the major.

So we did. I picked up a telephone and dialed a number.

"Lieutenant Meyers here," said Mike.

"Mike, Jack wants all troop captains to a meeting right away."

"All right, I'm coming."

Soon all of the troop and company captains arrived. We all met in the battalion briefing room, a room with very little furniture save for a table next to the wall. A coffee pot sat on the table. The room's walls had various maps and charts. Jack, Lieutenant Chalmers, and Master Sergeant Avital faced us all.

"We are being deployed to Moon Base ALuCE," said Jack. "Inform the troops, make sure we are all ready to go. I will be in contact with the Air Force transports. Once we arrive on base, I will brief you on our mission there."

"Yes, sir," we all said.

Today was going to be busy. I had the task of having to contact the headquarters of the Air Force transport wing that would be responsible for transporting us to the moon.

I remembered reading about the lunar missions. The first lunar landing was before my time, before my parents' time, even. Further manned missions and probes revealed a huge underground lake, as big as Earth's Arctic Ocean, which enabled the establishment of a permanent colony and a United Nations base there. Part of me was excited to visit the moon that I had seen all of my life.

And so we all worked, taking inventory of all equipment, ammunition, and supplies, making sure our veritech hovertanks were working, and making sure all of us soldiers were in top shape. Master Sergeant Avital was out in the garages, making sure to supervise everything, or at least follow up with the troop captains and executive sergeants.

"We're ready to go," said Jack. "All we have to do is wait for the Air Force."

The Air Force was not ready for us yet. We relied on the Air Force to shuttle us around the world or into deep space, much like how the Space Marines relied on the Spacy for those functions. It did annoy me a bit that we spent all that effort getting ready as fast as we could without the Air Force being ready when we were done. But I figured that the Air Force's transport wings must be very busy if they had to shuttle not only us, but other military units to ALuCE.

Finally, I got word that we were ready.

"Major, the 8th Transport Wing informs us that they are ready," I said to Jack.

"Perfect," said Jack. "Inform all troop and company captains that we are moving out now!"

And we did. We got into the trucks. After about an hour or so, we arrived at the air base in Spain from where we would be transported to the moon. I looked around the place. This was where Nina had been stationed, and where we had a battle a few months ago, a battle that Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane did not survive. It looked like the damage to the buildings had been repaired. We made sure everything on the list was here.

"All right, people," said Jack; we all stood at attention. "We are boarding the shuttles that will take us to the moon. We will be escorted by Spacy vessels that will cover us from attacks by the Robotech Masters."

I was assigned to board the Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle that was carrying our veritech hovertanks to the moon. I watched as the soldiers loaded the hovertanks and secured them with straps and bolts.

I spoke with the pilot, dressed in some green outfit.

"So you're not a butter bar anymore," I said. "Madam."

"I got promoted a few months ago," replied Second Lieutenant Shelby Porter. She looked pretty much the same as before, except for a scar on her forehead.

"Congratulations on your promotion, madam," I said. "So now you get to fly transports."

"I was transferred to this squadron after almost all of my squadron was destroyed in that offensive against the Robotech Masters," she replied. "Sometimes I can't believe they're all gone."

"Well, I have to babysit these hovertanks," I said even as the last of them were loaded into the cargo shuttle.

I entered the Liewneuatzs's passenger cabin, which was directly behind the cockpit. I could see the instrument panel. Shelby and another pilot, a man, sat in the seats. I sat down on this seat facing towards the cockpit window. An airman sat on the seat on the opposite side.

"All right," said the male pilot. "Everyone strap yourselves in."

I felt the shuttle taxi for a few minutes, and then I felt it tilt.

"What is this?" I asked.

"We are being loaded on a launcher," answered Shelby even as she checked the flight and engine instruments.

"Errand Flight Two Four, we are ready for takeoff," said the pilot. "We copy."

I sat in the seat, patiently. I knew the drill; we all had to work as fast as we could to get ready, but we could not go forth until the last person is ready. And there were almost always one delay or another. I took out a picture of me and Melissa, wondering what she was doing now.

"Copy that," said the pilot after a long while. "We are taking off."

I felt myself squeezed against the back of the seat as the Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle lifted off, flying into the sky. I felt vibrations, as if some invisible force was shaking me. The last time I had experienced this, I was a captive of the Robotech Masters. Now, while I was with friendly forces, I could not exactly step off the shuttle now.

"Altitude ten miles," said Shelby.

As I continued to feel the shaking, I could see the sky outside turn black; we were out of the atmosphere.

"Shutting off main thrusters," said the lead pilot, pressing buttons and flipping switches on the panel. "We are now orbiting the Earth. Awaiting instruction to begin lunar trajectory."

The rumbling stopped. I took a piece of lint from my pocket, and it started floating.

"Keep yourself strapped in, Lieutenant," said Shelby. "We will be burning the thrusters again to reach the moon."

Soon enough, I felt myself squeezed to my seat and felt the shuttle shake as the thrusters were burning, expelling reaction mass and placing the ship on a course to the moon.

"There," said the main pilot. "There might be slight bursts of acceleration to correct our course, but we should be able to coast to the moon most of the rest of the way."

"Wow," I said. "I thought you'd have to keep the engines running all the time."

"Most of the fuel is used during takeoff," said Shelby. "We let gravity take us most of the distance." She checked the gauges,. "We should have more than enough fuel to land at ALuCE."

Suddenly, this red siren went on.

"The enemy has decided to attack the convoy," said the lead pilot.

"What do we do, sir?" I asked.

"We stay on course for now. The space vessels will cover for us."

Outside, I could see some flashes. That must be the space battle.

"Strap yourselves in," said the lead pilot. "We need to make some evasive maneuvers."

And we did. I could feel the shuttle accelerating even as I saw more flashes through the window. I felt the ship suddenly shake really hard. I wondered if we were hit.

I wondered if we would make it to the moon alive.


	16. Blue Moon

We were helpless.

There was a war waging outside, and all we could do is evade the enemy. We had to leave it to the cruisers and fighter-interceptors to protect us.

I supposed in a sense, we were relying on our defensive space fleet to protect us. I knew that if the defense fleet were destroyed, our battalion would have no way to attack the enemy in orbit. It was only the stalemate between our fleet and the enemy fleet that the enemy was forced to take the battle to the ground. We did not feel helpless as we fought the enemy on the ground.

"We got a radar lock," said Lieutenant Shelby Porter.

"Deploying countermeasures," said the lead pilot, pressing a button on the console of the cargo shuttle's instrument panel.

"Countermeasures effective," said Shelby. "We have no more countermeasures."

I read about countermeasures somewhere, how they can fool guided missiles into going off their intended courses. But a ship can only carry so many countermeasures. We now needed the cruisers and fighter-interceptors to cover for us, more than ever.

I could see a bright flash outside. Was that one of the enemy ships being destroyed?

Or one of ours?

"Too much radar interference," said the lead pilot. "Can't see."

We were all quiet for a moment. Did the enemy have the same problem? If they could see us, but we could not see them….

The glow from outside faded. I intensely waited, wondering if we would make it to the moon safely, or if we would soon be blasted to bits.

"Copy that," said the lead pilot. "There is no damage to our systems; we can make it to lunar orbit."

The rest of the trip was pretty much uneventful. I could feel the acceleration as the shuttle matched the moon's velocity.

"Errand Flight Two Four to ALuCe flight control, we are requesting permission to descend into the landing bay," said the lead pilot. "…We copy. We will set course for the descent vector. Landing thrusters are engaged."

"We've more than enough fuel to go," said Shelby.

The landing thrusters engaged and I could feel pressure on my feet.

Finally, after a total travel time of seven hours, we finally landed.

"That wasn't too hard," I said.

"It is a bit tricky," said Shelby. "There's no atmosphere here to assist our landing, unlike Earth and Mars. We have to use the landing thrusters to generate enough thrust to _almost_ counteract gravity. It's like flying a Thunderbolt in guardian mode."

"Veritech fighters landing on the moon have to switch to guardian mode," said the lead pilot. "The controls for the landing thrusters are much like the controls for guardian mode on a veritech."

"And, except for takeoff, landing uses the most fuel. We're lucky we didn't leak fuel."

"Time to go," I said.

I went through this open door that was marked with a green light. It was an airlock door, and it only opened if the pressure inside the airlock equaled the pressure inside the passenger cabin. I soon passed another open door, also marked with a green light. This door could only open if the pressure outside equaled the pressure in the airlock. I then walked through this moveable, pressurized jet bridge that led me to a pressurized section of the moon base. On the other side of the jet bridge, people in olive green overalls- Space Marines- welcomed me.

"Welcome to Moon Base ALuCE, sir," said a Space Marine sergeant, saluting me.

I returned the salute. "The others from the 6th Battalion?"

"Their flight is landing shortly, Lieutenant," replied the sergeant.

The sergeant led me to a boarding gate for spacecraft. It looked pretty much like an airport terminal, minus the color ads for businesses that airport terminals usually had. I sat in one of the seats, leafing through a magazine published by the Space Marines Public Affairs Department.

I saw some more people come out of the gate, all dressed in MARPAT camouflage. I stood at attention as Major Jack Emerson emerged.

"Did everything arrive safely, Lieutenant?" asked the major.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "All of the hovertanks are accounted for, sir."

"You will need to oversee the unloading."

"Yes, sir."

And so I did. The hovertank suits, when worn with the helmet, protected the wearer from the vacuum of space. I made sure to attach the oxygen tank. A heads-up display on the visor of my helmet showed me how much oxygen I had. I went through the cargo airlock, which was much larger than the passenger airlocks used by personnel to enter the base. I waited awhile with a few other soldiers assigned to assist with the unloading of our cargo, as the air was pumped out of the airlock. Then the door to the hangar was unlocked.

We went to the Air Force cargo shuttle in which I rode.

"Can you hear me, sir?" asked Private First Class Philip Ducasse, his voice transmitted over the speaker.

"Copy," I replied. Our voices had to be transmitted over the radio, as a vacuum obviously does not transmit sounds, despite what I had watched in movies and on the television.

I looked into the cargo bay of the Liewneuatzs, which was never pressurized. There were at least ten VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertanks inside. Glancing at the cargo airlock, only four of the hovertanks can go through at one time.

"All right, people," I said. "This is going to take a long time. Remember, safety first, last, and always."

"Yes, sir!" snapped the other soldiers.

The veritechs were all stored in battloid mode. We walked the battloids into the cargo airlock, which was big enough to fit at least two Monster destroids. After passing through the airlock, we walked the battloids through the streets of the base. The streets were lined with buildings, many of them connected by footbridges. We were guided to this garage where our hovertanks would be stored and maintained. It took maybe over an hour to finish. In the meantime, other soldiers were unloading essential equipment and supplies we would need.

Finally, Jack gathered all of us in the hovertank hangar. All of us stood at attention by troop and company.

"All right, people," he said. "I know for many of you, this is your first time on another world. We are not here on vacation. We will continue training and drilling and working as we did on Earth. The base here has clubs for enlistees and officers, as well as restaurants if you do not want to eat at the messes. After we check in to our quarters, the Space Marines are inviting us for chow at the mess halls."

We were all billeted in this huge room elsewhere in the base; it must have been a spare room for storage, such as storing personnel who are guests here. Canvas walls were set up to partition the room, separating men from women and officers from enlistees. Cots were set up for us to sleep on.

"All comfy there, guys?" asked Jack as he entered the room.

"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"At least there's running water on base," said Jack. "I'll be attending meetings for the next few hours. I am sure you can take care of yourselves."

"Of course," said another officer.

"Good," said Jack, leaving the room.

Supper was served in the officers' mess. The supper that was being served was chicken stew. I had a cup of water to wash it down. The officers' mess was painted with a mural with scenes from all the armed services- while Moon Base ALuCE was operated by the United Nations Space Marines, personnel from all five services were stationed here.

After I was done, I left the officers' mess. I saw Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital approach me.

"Lieutenant, Major Emerson wishes to meet with you, sir," she said.

And so I did. The base had this transit system for transporting personnel; from what I have read, Moon Base ALuCE was huge, at least ten miles across. The master sergeant had given me directions to where I would meet Jack.

Walking through the corridors, I met Jack inside this observation room where I had a view of the cratered moonscape beyond the transparent walls. The room itself had some chairs and tables. There were a few other people with Jack.

I recognized one of them as General Rolf Emerson, now the commander of the Robotech Defense Forces Command.

"Lieutenant, we have reviewed your actions during that battle in the western Sahara," said the general. "For this, you are awarded the Titanium Medal of Valor."

He then gave me the medal.

"I am honored, sir," I said.

"And now I will take action," said Jack. "Under the authority vested in me by Section 702 of the United Earth Forces code, I hereby promote you to second lieutenant. I will assign you as XO of the 6th ATAC Battalion's 18th troop, under First Lieutenant Michael Meyers."

"You can do that?" I asked.

"I am a major; I have the authority. Unless someone higher in the chain of command has any objection."

"Not at this time, Major," said General Emerson. "Everyone, back to your posts."

"Yes, sir!" we all replied.

Oooooooo

My battlefield promotion was celebrated at the O-club at Moon Base ALuCE. It was a small place, with wooden tables and chairs and stools, a full bar with a wooden countertop, recruitment posters from all five services decorating the wall, and menus listing expensive food and drink. There was a stage on the O-club for singers.

"Now you don't screw up, or Jack will make you a butter bar again," said Mike.

"Got it," I said, sipping my vodka cranberry. I would indeed be taking on new responsibilities.

I looked and saw Shelby enter the O-club. She was clad in the Class "A" Air Force uniform, the analogue of the Class "A" Army uniform.

"You're still here?" I asked.

"I was told that I could not fly back to Earth until the route to there is secured," said Shelby. "I'm being billeted with an Air Force transport squadron stationed here."

"And how long will you be here?"

"We'll be here until a path can be cleared to Earth."

Jack entered the club.

"It's been a long time since I was here," he said.

"You were here before?" I asked.

"Yeah," replied the major. "I was assigned here a few years ago, behind a desk at HQ REFCOM. That was before I was assigned to Colonel Kravshera's battalion."

"How was it like?"

"Not as much stuff to do here as on Earth. Apollopolis- that's the civilian city located next to the base- it only has about a hundred thousand people, less than a tenth of Monument City's population. And everything is so expensive, since most stuff has to be shipped from Earth."

Jack looked towards the stage.

"You gonna sing?" asked Mike.

"No," said Jack, holding a glass of vodka cranberry. "I just want to relax. I've had to attend meeting after meeting after meeting."

"You're a major," said Mike. "It goes with the territory. That's why you get paid more than lieutenants and get your own room."

I sipped my own vodka cranberry, wondering if I would be promoted to major or even lieutenant colonel before my service obligation was up. Would I be able to handle the responsibility?

And I wondered how Melissa was doing.

Ooooooo

The troop leaders were being briefed in this huge bare room. A lieutenant colonel clad in a Class "A" uniform was addressing us; we all stood at attention.

"We have adopted the Special Vision Track Firing System for the VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertanks," said the colonel even as a sergeant handed us these booklets. "They were developed a few weeks ago, and the results were very promising. The simulators have already been upgraded. These booklets should give your technicians instructions on how to install the SVTFS into the cockpit of the hovertanks."

"Sir, we will need to test the system ourselves," said Jack.

"You are all dismissed," said the colonel.

"You're in charge in overseeing the installation of this system for our troop," said Mike.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

And that was what we did. We- or rather the technicians under my supervision- installed the new firing system inside the Spartases.

"It's a good thing that the hovertanks were equipped with expansion modules, sir," said Executive Sergeant Wing, who had replaced Rebekah Avital when she was promoted to battalion master sergeant. "We don't have to take the whole thing apart."

I glanced at the specs for the hovertank. There were plenty of empty spaces inside for future customization, in case something like a missile launcher had to be installed.

As I walked in the garage, I noticed some of the technicians with laptop computers connected to the veritechs. I read that they had to program the SVTFS.

"That's the last of them in this troop, sir," said a staff sergeant.

"Good," I said. I looked at Executive Sergeant Wing. "Executive Sergeant Wing, see if you can loan our people to assist with the other troops' upgrades."

"Yes, sir," replied the executive sergeant.

Oooooooooo

The final test of the upgrade was a live exercise. We had first practiced in the simulators that had incorporated the SVTFS. But we had to make sure that the system was compatible with our hovertanks. The Space Marines had escorted us to the target practice area for armor units. It was outside the pressurized areas of the base. Fortunately, our hovertank suits were airtight, and we had oxygen masks.

"Okay people," said Mike, addressing the 18th. "Listen up. This is a practice fire exercise. As commanding officer of this unit, I shall have the privilege of going first."

I got into my own veritech even as Mike entered his. Mike fired a few rounds at the targets while in hovertank mode. The rounds were practice rounds, which were basically giant paintballs; they were cheaper than live ammunition.

"Okay, it's your turn," Mike said to me.

And so I did. The SVTFS tracked the movement of my eyes as I looked for the targets. I saw a target, and then pressed the button to fire. The cardboard target was sprayed with paint. I fired at the targets again and again, coating them with colored paint.

"Good," said Mike. "Now Executive Sergeant Wing, show the others how it is done."

"Yes, sir," said Wing, maneuvering his hovertank.

We continued the exercise for quite some time, firing paint at the targets in all three modes- hovertank, guardian, and battloid.

"Okay, we're done," said Mike. "We'd better head back inside before we run out of air."

And so we did. As we went through the vehicle airlock leading into the moon base, a few soldiers commented on how they could use a break.

I would have to continue my work, both with evaluating the performance of the SVTFS and attending meetings with the battalion staff. I did sometimes envy the junior enlistees, even though they had to do the dirty work.

Ooooooooo

I was finally glad for a break, after having to review the troop's performance and attending an hours-long meeting with Jack and the others in the battalion staff. I went to the base's Internet kiosk. It basically had rows of computer terminals consisting of a screen, a keyboard, and a trackball. A few soldiers were already online, checking e-mails and web sites.

I logged on to my e-mail account and I saw a list of messages. Many of them were typical junk e-mails that somehow got through the junk e-mail filter. One e-mail caught my attention.

It was an e-mail from Melissa Sharp. I clicked on the link to open the e-mail.

I was stunned after reading the first few words.

"I can't continue this relationship," she had written. "We haven't seen each other and we are light-years apart."

I read those words, over and over again, for a few minutes. I could not believe this. How could she do that to me? I had waited to see her ever since I was captured, and waited even harder after learning that she survived the attack on Casablanca. For her to do this to me, after what we had been through?

I just sat there at the Internet kiosk terminal, staring at the screen for a long time.

I looked and saw Shelby at one of the Internet terminals.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Great," she said. "It's different scenery than Spain."

"If you like barren rock. You can't even see Earth from here. Here we are indoors all the time. Would you like to join me for a drink in town."

Shelby looked at me. "Sure," she said. "I can show you around."

And so we did.

Ooooooo

Apollopolis was the site of the first civilian human settlement of off Earth, built above an underground ocean, with construction finished about ten years before the arrival of robotechnology. Many, many habitats, with their own air supply, had been added to the city since.

Shelby and I left through ALuCE Base's main gate, which was a short tunnel that can be sealed off in event of a hull breach. Apollopolis had a mass transit tram; from what I had heard, most people in town did not have their own personal cars. Boarding the tram, we sat inside with some soldiers, airmen, crewmen, and marines from the base, all in Class "A" uniforms like us.

"Here's our stop," Shelby said after a few minutes.

"You've been here before?" I asked.

"It was part of my flight candidate training," she replied. We and many of the others got off. The station here looked different from the station serving Moon Base ALuCE, which was bare except for some benches and recruitment posters on the walls. Here, there were wooden benches and potted plants. A vending machine served Coca-cola; I noticed that the prices were much higher than prices on Earth. The station was identified as Lunar Park Station. We went up an escalator, walked through this hallway which had an air pressure gauge on the wall, and then we rode up another escalator.

The first thing I noticed upon reaching the top was the sky. Apparently there was a transparent dome; we could see the stars. There were concrete paths winding among trees and grass. Wrought-iron lampposts lined the concrete foot paths. There were some benches and picnic tables on the sides.

"Sort of like we are inside, yet outside," I said.

"There's the place," said Shelby.

There was this food court like place, enclosed in velvet ropes. Chairs and tables were set up on a concrete surface, with many people already sitting in them. There were several stands, some serving food, others serving alcohol. Some of the stands had already closed. Music was played from these speakers in the corners of this food court.

We walked to the bar, and this pretty lady in a sleeveless top smiled at us.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked, standing behind the bar.

"Lunar water vodka," said Shelby.

"Lunar water?" I asked.

"Raw lunar water straight from under the surface. We had this last year when our squadron was assigned here for a training mission."

I held the drink in my hand and sipped it. It had this sharp taste of alcohol mixed with salty and sweet tastes.

"Tastes different," I said, sitting on a barstool. "Anything new happening?"

"I have T.A.D. with a Space Marine Thunderbolt squadron."

"Space Marine?" I asked, puzzled. "Why weren't you assigned to an Air Force squadron?"

"The only Air Force squadron here is an Ajax squadron, and I can't fly an Ajax."

"How's it like being billeted with Space Marines?"

"I'm not being billeted in their section; I still have the same temporary quarters. I just have to report to the squadron on my duty shifts."

I looked around. Sure, Apollopolis has its novelties, but I was at a loss to wonder why anyone would _live_ here. One could not go outside without a spacesuit and the food here is expensive.

I ordered another round of drinks. "A lot different from that place, Mansota?" I asked.

"Minnesota," replied Shelby. "No way it would ever snow here."

"But you won't get hurricanes here either."

I have lived through one or two hurricanes in Jamaica. They had always caused quite a wreck, even destroying a few buildings. I had heard and read about what happened in Jamaica near the end of the First Robotech War; while I lived through it, I was too young to remember. I heard that it was like two Category 5 hurricanes striking the island from two sides, and the pictures of battered cities that I saw reinforced that saying.

"Yeah," she said, looking around and sipping her drink. "But sometimes I like weather, especially after a good snowstorm when you can just ski around."

"It snows in parts of Spain, right?" I asked.

"In the mountains. But they don't have cross-country skiing; the flat lands don't get snow. Right now, I think we need another drink."

"Okay. What else are we going to do with our bonus pay?"

And so we had more drinks. The music seemed to blend into us. I could feel a buzz in my head, like I was partially detached from the Universe.

I took Shelby's arm, and we danced to the music. I could feel my heart race. This was fun. I felt as if all the stress of our deployment here melted away.

Oooooooo

I woke up and felt that I was on a bed, which was remarkable, as I had been sleeping on a cot in a room with other junior officers these past few weeks. I also felt warmer than I did when I slept on the cot.

I noticed Shelby sleeping next to me; her blond hair tangled.

"Uh, good morning," I said.

"Good morning," she replied.

Looking around, we were clearly in a hotel room with the typical furnishings- a plasma television, a varnished wooden desk with a chair in front and a lamp on top, a dresser, and of course, the bed where we slept. The floor was covered by a carpet; clothes were scattered on the floor near the bed.

On a small wooden desk next to the bed, a clock radio read in red numerals that the time was 5:30.

"I have to get back to base," I said. "If I'm late, I'll be lucky if all Jack does is take away my promotion."

I quickly put on my clothes. Looking at the mirror, I noticed that my uniform had a few wrinkles. I hoped that the Class "A's" were not the uniform for the day.

"We'll have to check out," said Shelby. "There should be video check out on the TV."

"Right," I said. I turned on the TV and pressed a few buttons. There were all these menus with options. I had trouble trying to find video checkout. I tuned into one of the channels, which played some cartoon show featuring giant robots. I pressed the Menu button on the remote control. After a while, I found the Check Out option under the Guest Services menu. Selecting Check Out, I went to another menu and I selected Yes.

"I checked us out," I said. "Don't forget anything."

I left the room and went to the elevator, emerging in the lobby less than a minute later. Not even glancing to loom around, I left the lobby, emerging out to a street lined with lampposts and buildings and with cars and trucks driving down the street. I wondered how to get to base.

Looking down the street, I saw a sign above a stairway leading to the underground tram. I quickly walked down the stairs and into the station. It was not crowded; only a few people were there. I looked at a map hanging on the wall and I found out I would have to switch tram lines to reach Moon Base ALuCE. I briefly wondered how we got from the lunar park to the hotel.

Sitting inside the tram gave me time to think. I did not love Shelby Porter. Sure, she was a fun person, and I got along with her, but there wasn't that emotional connection. I then thought about how much I missed Melissa, and I then wondered if I spent the night with Shelby because I missed Melissa so much.

After one stopover and one more tram ride, I reached ALuCE station, which served the moon base. I rode an escalator up to this small underground room. One path led to the street level of Apollopolis. One path led out of the base, and one path led into the base. That was the foot entrance into Moon Base ALuCE and I ran inside, passing through the tunnel, and to the guard post manned by Space Marine Military Police.

"Lieutenant," said a Space Marine sergeant.

I showed my ID, telling them my rank and post.

"Tell Lieutenant Meyers and Major Emerson at the Army's 6th Battalion forward post that I am on my way," I said.

"Yes, sir," replied the sergeant.

I ran along the sidewalks of the base, passing people. I nearly ran into a truck along the way. Finally, I reached the building where my battalion was stationed.

"Lieutenant," Executive Sergeant Wing addressed me upon seeing me. I noticed he was dressed in MARPAT camouflage.

"Is that the uniform of the day?" I asked.

"Yes, it is, sir. I strongly recommend you get dressed, sir."

And so I did, quickly changing from my Class "A's" to my MARPAT.

And just in time, as it was time for breakfast.

Breakfast was less stressful, as I had scrambled eggs and toast. A third lieutenant from the battalion staff- I knew her as Lieutenant Mejian- called our attention.

"Major Emerson is in a meeting right now," she said, her dark hair tied in a ponytail.

Oooooooo

A while later, we found out what the meeting was about. Jack assembled the entire battalion. Lieutenant Chalmers and Master Sergeant Avital stood by his side.

"All right, people," he said. "We are being deployed for an attack against the Robotech Masters in orbit. Our job will be to be to seize the Robotech Masters' ships. That's right; we're now doing the job of the Space Marines."

I figured so many Space Marine veritech armor battalions were lost over this war.

"Remember," the major continued, "the most important thing you have is your air supply. The enemy will surely try to deprive us of air as soon as we board. All combat troops are to gear up and move to their assigned drop ships."

And we did. I suited up and then drove my hovertank to Hangar 32, where our drop ship was waiting. After passing through another cargo airlock, we entered the hangar.

Inside the hangar was this huge rectangular ship, much larger than a Liewneuatzs cargo shuttle. It sort of looked like a sawfish, with a long, sharp extension extending from the front. "U.N. SPACE MARINES" was stenciled prominently on the hull of the craft. It dwarfed everything else inside, including our hovertanks.

"I'm Lieutenant Meyers of the 18th Troop of the 6th Battalion," said Mike.

"Major Shu, commander of this Daedalus boarding ship," said a person in a space suit; I could tell from the voice that the major was a woman. "I never imagined we'd have to haul the Army. You've heard how we operate, right?"

"Yeah, basically if there is a hull breach, you guys jam the ship in and we go in."

"For obvious reason, the whole ship is unpressurized. Better make sure you have spare tanks."

"We got plenty of tanks, madam."

"I mean air tanks, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, that too, Major. Okay, people, everyone get in."

We all boarded via this ramp in the front of the Daedalus. Mike did a quick head count.

"We're all in and ready to go," he said.

"Okay," replied Major Shu. The ship's ramp was shut.

"I never did this before," said a corporal.

"This is our plan," said Major Shu. "We are stay in the rear while the Spacy blasts holes in the enemy ships. Once a hole is punched in the enemy ship, we will go in."

"It sounds simple," said Mike.

I agreed. Of course, things can get really complicated, such as enemy bioroids attacking the boarding ship.

And I knew that some of the people driving those bioroids were prisoners of the Robotech Masters, robbed of their will, their brains connected to the bioroid's systems.

And we would be killing people who were victims of the Robotech Masters.

And yet, the only way to stop the Robotech Masters from taking more people from Earth and sticking them into their bioroids was to destroy their ability to do so, which would kill some of their prisoners.

Maybe, just maybe, we could rescue them.

"Okay, people," said Major Shu. "We've been cleared for takeoff."

And I felt a little heavier as the Daedalus's landing thrusters burned, lifting us out of the hangar and into deep space and the battle ahead.


	17. A Heavy Problem

I was back in space, sitting inside my VHT-1 Spartas veritech battloid inside a Deadalus boarding ship. There was no sound. All of us in the troop were waiting for the battle ahead.

I could only imagine the battle outside, with space fighters, bombers, cruisers, and destroyers engaging the enemy ships and bioroids, and laser beams and missiles and shells fired every which way, and space littered with fireballs from the explosions.

I wondered if the enemy would surrender, allowing us to go back to base.

"Maybe they'll just give up," said Private First Class Philip Ducasse.

"And maybe the government will pay us a million dollars for this mission, Ducasse," said another soldier.

We all laughed. We needed the humor, even knowing that the Robotech Masters could blast us to bits the next instant.

"Okay, Army people," said Space Marine Major Shu, the commander of this boarding ship. "Our ships blew a hole in our target; we are going in."

Things were about to get exciting. We all waited and waited, and every second seemed like a long time, an entire history.

And then I felt something shudder, down to my very bones and rattling my teeth.

"We're opening the hatch," said Major Shu.

And hydraulic mechanisms opened the hatch. I could glimpse what was had-some sort of enclosed space, with VF-11 Thunderbolts and VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks in battloid mode already inside, with some infantry. I noticed just how much taller the Thunderbolts were in comparison with the Spartases.

"We're moving in," said Mike. And we did. After all of us had entered, I looked back and the Daedalus boarding ship withdrew, firing its vernier thrusters to maneuver away.

I looked around. We seemed to be what appeared to be a flight deck; there were spacecraft inside, and not of any earthly design. A shattered window was on the left side. Drums and crates were scattered around the deck. I noticed a huge door to the left, big enough to walk a battloid through. I figured that it was a cargo airlock.

"Okay, people," said a voice from one of the Thunderbolts. "This will be our fallback position, in case something goes really wrong. Lieutenant Kersey and his team will secure this flight deck."

"Yes, sir," replied Kersey, who was one of our troop captains.

I was with Mike's troop; so I had the honor of going further inside.

"We got the airlock open," said one of the Space Marines.

"Okay team," said the Space Marine commander. "The enemy will have an ambush."

And there was. I saw some flak just as soon as the other side of the airlock was opened.

"Balu is down!" someone yelled. One of the damaged Thunderbolts were taken into the flight deck.

"I'm all right," said Balu, the Thunderbolt's pilot. "My plane's pretty much useless."

"Okay, you'll join with our foot team," said the mission commander. I looked and saw a man in a sealed flight suit crawl out of the damaged veritech.

"Okay, 6th Battalion," said Major Jack Emerson. "Lieutenant Meyers and his team will come go in, while Lieutenant Kersey and his team secures our fallback."

"Okay, people," Mike said to his team. "Let's do it."

We went through the airlock. The first thing I noticed was the wreckage of bioroids. We were in this huge dark corridor with metal walls; we figured that this was a cargo corridor used by vehicles to transport personnel, supplies, and equipment.

We did not need to be reminded that we were in an environment that could be controlled by the enemy. They had already killed the lights in this corridor, and there was no air inside the corridor. We were dependent on our air supplies.

"The bulkhead must be at least ten feet thick," said a voice.

"They have to be," said the Space Marine colonel leading the incursion. "Helps keep the air in. We'll need to split up into fire teams."

"Got it," replied Jack. "Remember, people, the enemy can control the environment, but we can _wreck_ it." And so we did split up into fire teams. I led one of the five-man fire teams, with Staff Sergeant Kominski as my second.

I led my team down one of the cargo corridors. We were wary. Enemy bioroids could approach us from the front or behind, and enemy infantry can come out through one of the personnel-sized doors.

"Okay, we're secure for now," I said.

There was no response.

"Major Emerson, Lieutenant Meyers, can you hear me?" I asked.

"It appears our radio signals can not reach them, or theirs can't reach us," said Kominski.

Unless we linked up with the others, we had only each other. I looked at the four others in the team. Right here, right now, I, and I alone, was responsible for them.

We came across a huge cargo door, large enough for a VF-11 Thunderbolt battloid. There were some strange markings on the door.

"Let's blow this thing," I said. And so we did, firing our gunpods. I then kicked the door open with my battloid's feet. We then all burst through the other side.

What greeted us was many, many bioroids. They were all lined up neatly against the walls. Most of them were blue, although two of them were red. I noticed some of the panels on the bioroids were open, exposing the innards. Ceiling lights provided illumination.

None of the bioroids moved to attack us. I figured this was a repair garage, as the enemy surely mobilized all bioroids as soon as they learned they had uninvited guests.

"Let's blast them," I said.

"Yes, sir," said all of the other soldiers. We all shot the bioroids. It was like having a target-rich environment in which the targets don't shoot back.

"Ahhhh!" yelled Private Ducasse.

I looked and saw small figures in space suits; they must be enemy infantry. We fired several rounds at them and at one of the windows.

"You okay, Ducasse?" asks Sergeant Kominski.

"My arm is damaged," he said.

We were still taking fire. There was plenty of cover for the enemy infantry.

"Okay, people," I said. "Cover me."

I switched to guardian mode and leaped off my tank. I had a Heckler and Koch UMP submachine gun- used by Earth's armed forces since before the arrival of robotechnology- as well as some grenades. Retrieving my knowledge of infantry tactics from my memory, I approached the place where the enemy troops were hiding, firing my submachine gun in their general direction even as the others in my fire team fired in that same direction.

The soldiers were hiding behind some equipment. I pulled a pin from a grenade, and tossed it to them.

I immediately took cover behind one of the battloids. The grenade exploded, sending pieces of steel shrapnel everywhere. I did not want to think of the effects of being that close to a grenade. I used my HUD to check my air supply- those fragments could kill in this environment merely by puncturing a sealed suit.

"That takes care of these bioroids," I said as I got into my guardian, looking around at the wreckage that we had made.

"Sir, we need to do some more damage," said Staff Sergeant Kominski.

"Let's move out!" I yelled. And we did. I noticed some pipes and conduits running along the ceiling. Some sort of braces held them to the ceiling. "We have more targets."

We fired above. What we were doing was akin to destroying a human body from the inside. I could see water and other fluids spraying around.

"If we can find a reservoir or a fuel tank," said Ducasse.

"Or an ammo dump," said Kominski.

"Watch out, there's an intersection ahead," I said.

I could see it through my night vision; walls forming four corners. There were signs mounted on the corners. I knew what this meant. There could be enemy mecha or troops hiding around the corner, waiting to strike like a predator in the woods. This was a little like that battle in Monument City a few months ago, only we could not call in an air strike to root out enemy forces.

Suddenly there was flak coming in our direction. We instinctively returned fire. I saw a bioroid go down in flames, which would have appeared brighter if I had been looking at it through my own eyes instead of the night vision system.

I stood with the battloid's back against the wall, taking what cover I could.

"We're pinned down," I said. "We could use some relief. Anyone?"

Nobody answered. Not only that, we were expending quite a bit of ammo.

"I'm out of ammo," said Staff Sergeant Kominski.

Our nearest ammo supply was at the flight deck where we had entered. The Robotech Masters' bioroids can resupply from within this ship.

"We'll have to make a fighting retreat," I said.

I switched to guardian mode and aimed the main cannon upward. I then fired a shot right at the ceiling. There was a direct hit, and debris fell down. I switched to battloid and we all made a retreat away from the intersection.

"Where are we going, sir?" asked Kominski.

"Back to where we can restock on ammo and get Ducasse's Spartas repaired," I said.

There was one small problem. I did not know the way back. I certainly did not have a map of the enemy ship.

"There's another intersection ahead," said Private Ducasse.

"We'll turn the corner," I said. We made a right at a T-intersection.

And we did. Luckily, there were no enemy forces to greet us. So far, this had been a luck-based mission. I looked back the way we came, preparing for the enemy to confront us.

They did not come. For a moment I wondered if another fire team took care of them, or if they were reinforcing another team of bioroids.

"I'll watch our back, team," I said. We'll move forward through this hall."

And we did. I kept the back watch, making sure the enemy was not tracking us. I made frequent sprints in battloid mode.

"There's a door here, sir," said Ducasse. "It might lead to a warehouse or garage."

I went to where Ducasse was standing. There was a large rolling shutter. I looked and saw something emerge from around the corner. I instinctively aimed there.

It was other VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks.

"May we be of assistance?" asked Mike.

"Lieutenant Meyers," I said. "You've come."

"We've had a few run-ins with the enemy," he said. "I have two people covering our backtrail."

"It's so hard to communicate," I said.

"Yeah, the enemy isn't making this easy."

I looked and saw a VF-11 Thungerbolt in guardian mode hovering towards us.

"Hi there," said Lieutenant Shelby Porter.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I was ordered to back up Lieutenant Meyers and his team," she said.

"Lieutenant Meyers," I said. "I suggest looking behind that shutter, sir."

"Do it."

And so I did, punching down the shutter with my battloid's fists. I burst inside, leading my team in.

The first thing I noticed were these transparent pods stacked in rows. Within each of those pods was this pink flower that grew in triplets. There was a truck parked inside the warehouse, and the ceiling lights were on; this room might have a power supply independent of the ship.

"It looks like an indoor garden of some sort," said Staff Sergeant Kominski.

Mike and Shelby entered the room. "We'd better get this recorded," said Mike.

"These flowers could be used for food," I said. "Or maybe the manufacture of drugs, or even some industrial chemical."

"Or it might just be used to decorate rooms," said Shelby.

"All right, people," said Mike. "Let's move out."

And we did, moving as a solid block along the cargo corridors of the ship. We were all wary of any potential enemy ambush.

"Have you made contact with Major Emerson, sir?" I asked Mike.

"No, I haven't," replied Mike. "We've been out of contact."

That the enemy was doing their best to jam our communications needed not to be said, nor was it surprising. I wondered what was next even as we moved along the corridor.

I then noticed myself feeling very heavy, as if something was pushing me down.

"What's this?" asked a soldier. "Is this ship accelerating?"

"Either that or the enemy increased the gravity ten times," said Shelby.

It never occurred to me that the enemy could do that. It would place strain on the ship's system, but I could see, and was feeling, how useful it would be and was to counter a boarding action.

I looked around. We were at a bend of a corridor, with a huge door about a hundred yards away. Many of the battloids were on their knees. I wondered if this was how it was going to end.

"What do we do, sir?" Private Ducasse asked Mike.

"I don't know," said Mike. "I'm thinking."

We could barely move. Even my arms felt heavy. We seemed so helpless. Aside from waiting for Jack or the others to take out the ship's main power supply, I could not see a way out of our predicament.

"I see something," said a soldier.

I could see some sort of tracked vehicle coming around the bend; it must be be able to operate under high gravity. One thing I noticed besides the tracks was the huge cannon.

"Surrender and you will live to serve the Robotech Masters," I heard a voice say.


	18. Breathe

We were in dire straits.

We were trapped in a cargo corridor on one of the Robotech Masters' ships. They had apparently increased the gravity; I could feel myself being pressed down. And some sort of armed and armored vehicle was facing us; someone from the ship, maybe even from the vehicle, had ordered us to surrender. What could we do, aside from waiting for reinforcements to come to the rescue?

"I got one shot," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

He fired something, and for less than a second, I saw something fly towards the open door on the wall of the cargo corridor.

Suddenly, a huge fireball erupted from the door, followed by the sound of an explosion; I briefly wondered if Mike's shot struck a fuel tank or an ammo dump.

I suddenly felt myself flying. I looked around, and I could see the blue ball of Earth! Apparently, I had been blown out of the ship; I recalled we had gone through an airlock and into a pressurized section of the ship. I felt like I was in a roller coaster, tumbling every which way.

I saw the hole on the side of the enemy ship. The enemy ship was huge, at least five miles across. There was debris still flying away from the hole in the ship. Among the debris were several hovertanks.

I looked towards Earth. I could see central America and the Florida peninsula. Looking closely, I could see Jamaica, even making out Montego Bay. I continued spinning around.

"Everyone okay?" asked Mike.

"Yeah," I said. "What about you?"

"Ahhh, my air tank's gone," he answered. "I'm losing air. I…."

"Mike!" I yelled, as if my voice could somehow cross the vacuum of space and keep him in the physical realm.

"Are you all right?" asked Lieutenant Shelby Porter.

"Mike lost his air tank!" I yelled. "You have to get him to a ship now!"

"This is the _Gloval_," I heard a voice say. "Anyone all right?"

"I have a hovertank driver who ran out of air," said Shelby. "Vector me in for a quick landing."

"Copy," said the voice from the _Gloval_. "Anyone else okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I said. "I was with the task force boarding the ship."

"We'll send some Logans to retrieve you."

I looked and I could see Shelby's VF-11 Thunderbolt in battloid mode carrying Mike's hovertank. She was flying towards a carrier orbiting Earth.

"Thanks," said Mike.

"Save your breath," said Shelby.

I looked at my HUD; I still had enough air for a couple of hours. I made sure to take a look at my surroundings- the Earth, the moon, the ships from both sides, some of which were trading fire with each other. In the midst of it all, I knew that each explosion that I saw meant a life lost, maybe multiple lives. I could only hope this was the last battle.

I saw some aircraft flying towards us; I recognized them as VF-8 Logans. They transformed into battloid mode.

"This is Nimbus Squadron," said a voice, probably that of the squadron commander. "We're taking you to the _Gloval_."

One of them battloids grabbed my hovertank with its hands. Using its thrusters, it stopped me from spinning; I was beginning to feel a little loopy from the spinning.

I saw more detail as we approached the ship. I could see in bold lettering**- U.E.S. HENRY J. GLOVAL HSRCV-036**. There was a huge opening which was probably a landing bay. On the hull of the ship were weapons turrets. Flanking the ship were two cruisers.

The Logan battloid carried me into the flight deck of the ship. I looked and saw a window with people behind it. People in space suits walked around the flight deck. An elevator took us down to the hangar deck, where there were VF-8 Logans and other spacecraft parked inside, along with equipment and personnel. I could also see Shelby's VF-11 Thunderbolt parked in guardian mode.

"Okay," said the pilot. "The airlock is there."

Indeed, I could see the door with two lamps mounted on a wall next to it; one of the lamps glowed red. I waited for a few others to arrive.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"We're a bit sore, sir," said Staff Sergeant Kominski. "Executive Sergeant Wing is still on the ship."

I had wondered what was happening back on the enemy ship. Had Jack and the others defeated the enemy and disabled the ship from within.

Or were they dead?

I pressed a button next to the airlock door and looked at the airlock pressure gauge as it decreased. Once the pressure was near zero, the red lamp shut off and the green lamp turned on, and I opened the door. The airlock was a fairly large room, not as big as a cargo airlock, but enough to fit ten people or so. We went in and shut the door behind us. A light next to the door behind us turned from green to red, and I watched the airlock pressure gauge rise. Then the light on the door of the other side turned green, and I opened the door.

I emerged into the hallway on the other side, and removed my helmet, taking a deep breath. It was great to breathe free of the suit, even though technically the air inside the ship was enclosed.

"Welcome aboard the _Henry J. Gloval_, sir," said a sergeant in a crisp blue outfit, flanked by crewmen.

"Is Lieutenant Meyers, the man brought in here earlier, is he okay?" I asked.

"He was taken to the Emergency Medical Bay Five, sir."

"Can someone take us there, Sergeant?"

"Crewman, escort these soldiers to Medical Bay Five."

"Yes, Sergeant," replied one of the crewmen, a man with short-cropped blond hair a little younger than I was. "This way, sir," he said to me.

The crewman led us through a series of corridors. The corridors were bare of any furniture, with pipes and conduits overhead. Most of the people we passed through the corridor were dressed in a blue outfit similar to the one the crewman was wearing, and a few of them were wearing Spacy service khakis- a collared khaki shirt and khaki pants. I figured they were officers or the Spacy equivalent of sergeants major.

After taking an elevator, we went through another part of the ship that looked less industrial, with plaster walls and a tiled floor. We finally reached a glass door reading "MEDICAL BAY 5". Through the door I could see a small room serving as a lobby, with chairs, a wooden table, and a receptionist desk staffed by an orderly in blue overalls.

I entered the room and spoke to the orderly.

"Is Lieutenant Michael Meyers in?" I asked, introducing myself.

"Who?" asked the orderly.

"He was one of the people rescued by this ship; he was taken here."

"Yes, he is here, sir."

"Okay. Kominski, you're with me."

Another orderly, who was probably a junior Spacy corpsman, led us down a narrow hall. We entered one of the rooms, which looked like a miniature version of a hospital room, with white walls, a bed with a curtain, some chairs, and a television mounted on the wall.

Mike was laying on one of the beds, being attended to by another orderly in blue. He had a bandage on his head.

"Lieutenant," he said to me.

"How are you feeling, sir?" I asked.

"I feel lucky just to breathe." He took a deep breath. "Those few minutes after the air ran out."

I wondered what it must have been like, to inhale and feel that no air is coming in. It had some similarity to sucking on a straw after the cup is empty, but then again, breathing is a need for human life.

"Good thing we managed to get him here in time," I heard Shelby say. I looked and saw her sitting in a chair next to the door.

"Thank you," I said. A doctor in a white lab coat entered. I noticed the brass oak leaves on his collar, indicating that he was a lieutenant commander.

"Will he be all right, sir?" I asked.

"He looks as if he will make a full recovery in a day or two," replied the doctor. "We will need to keep him under observation overnight. We've been busy here this past day. If you can excuse me, Lieutenant."

"I'll probably be out of this bed before sunrise tomorrow morning," said Mike, smiling.

"That depends on how fast this ship is orbiting the Earth," answered Shelby.

"What do we do now, sir?" asked Staff Sergeant Kominski.

"Why are you asking me, Staff Sergeant?" I asked.

"You're the troop captain now, sir."

I was, with Mike now in bed, recuperating from his close encounter with death by suffocation. I felt nervous. I had been placed in charge of the troop, but in those past times I could hand the situation over to Mike if it was really serious. This time, I had to take care of whatever situation came.

"All right," I said. "Our first thing is to gather the troops for roll call, find out who is here and who is still on board the enemy ship. And one other thing, Staff Sergeant Kominski. Since Executive Sergeant Wing isn't here…" _and might be dead_, I didn't want to admit, "…you will act in his stead and stand by my side."

"Yes, sir," replied the staff sergeant.

"Then our first order of business is to secure temporary billeting for our troops. Staff Sergeant, take care of that."

"Yes, sir."

Oooooooo

An officer from the captain's staff had led us to this cargo room where our people could stay. The most obvious thing that I noticed was that the hovertanks were inside this room; it was apparently a vehicle garage. The room was bare of any furniture, and it was illuminated by lamps attached to the ceiling. I could smell this musty smell. Just down the hall from the room was a latrine, or what Spacy crewmen called a head.

All of the troops stood at attention. Twenty-three of us were here, including me and Staff Sergeant Kominski, while excluding Mike.

"All right then," I said. "Watch over the troops, Staff Sergeant. I will make contact with Mission Command. The rest of you can have some R&R. Don't cause any trouble."

"Yes, sir," replied the others.

And so I did. I asked the Spacy lieutenant in charge to have someone assist me in sending a message to mission command, and a corporal did just that, setting me up before an Internet terminal where I sent message to mission command.

Now all we could do is wait. We might have to go back to the enemy ship, or we might have to return to Moon Base ALuCE.

Oooooooooo

I woke up in a yet unfamiliar environment. It took a few seconds to remember that I was on the Spacy vessel _Gloval_.

"Everyone all right?" I asked.

"We're fine, sir," said Private First Class Philip Ducasse.

"Good," I said. "We will wait for breakfast."

I then heard a voice call out my name. I recognized that voice.

"Lieutenant Meyers," I said, facing Mike, who was dressed in his MARPAT camouflage. Everyone else in the room snapped at attention.

"All right, people," said Mike. "I got a message from the ship's captain."

"What is it, sir?" I asked.

"The enemy ship had unconditionally surrendered. The _Gloval_ will dock with the enemy ship, and we shall board to join the rest of the battalion. Also, Major Emerson has sent a message to us. He is alive and well, as are Master Sergeant Avital and Executive Sergeant Wing. We will take these hovertanks and go through the cargo docking port and into the enemy ship."

"So there will be no hostiles?" asked Kominski.

"They laid down their arms and troops already occupy the ship. We will meet with Major Emerson."

And so we did. We all suited up and got into the hovertanks, making sure they were all working. Then we went out into the _Gloval's_ cargo corridor. A Jeep led the way to the cargo docking port.

After passing through, we were once again on board the ship. A few more hivertanks were awaiting us.

"Executive Sergeant Wing," said Mike.

"Major Emerson told me to greet you, sir," said Executive Sergeant Wing, sitting in the cockpit of his hovertank. "I am to escort you to the core of this ship."

"They all surrendered?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. I was surprised as Major Emerson was."

We all followed Sergeant Wing as he led us through the wide cargo corridors of the enemy ship. After a few minutes, we emerged into what appeared to be a cityscape. There were these buildings rising high, some apparently made from concrete, others apparently made from glass and steel. Footbridges several stories high connected some of the buildings, supported by arches. Lampposts lined the streets, which appeared to be paved with concrete. Small trees grew from out of the sidewalks.

"Wow," said Private Ducasse. "It's almost like what Macross City was."

"This is where the crew lived?" asked another soldier.

I also noticed people in strange clothes standing on the street. None of them appeared to be armed, and they looked at us but did not interfere. Any of them who wanted to interfere were most likely dissuaded by armored troops bearing rifles, who stood at street corners and other strategic locations.

"Here we are," said Wing. We stopped at what appeared to be a city park, with grass and trees. For a moment I realized the plants here would be of alien species.

We all stood before Major Jack Emerson, who was clad in MARPAT camouflage. He was flanked by Lieutenant Chalmers and Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital.

"Good to have you join us," said Jack.

"Some of us were hurt, but we're fine now, sir," answered Mike.

"Good," said Jack. "Right now, we are in control of this enemy ship. They had surrendered; there are no reports of any pockets of resistance on board this vessel. Lieutenant Meyers, I expect a debriefing of what happened since you were separated."

"We saw interesting things, sir," said Mike. "There was some sort of flower being grown somewhere in the ship, outside of the city."

"I am sure you and your XO can submit fully detailed reports to me in writing."

I heard the rumbling sound of an approaching engine, rumb and saw a Jeep approach. Many of the soldiers and Space Marines stood and saluted. I did too, upon seeing who was in the Jeep.

Supreme Commander Anatole Leonard himself was in the Jeep, dressed in MARPAT camouflage and with a hat covering his bald head. With him were a few other military personnel, including General Rolf Emerson, the commander of the Robotech Defense Forces Command. Leonard and Emerson returned our salutes.

"We certainly got the attention of the real big shots," said Mike.

I nodded in agreement. I also noticed how huge Leonard was, compared to the others. Another officer joined Leonard and his escort, and they walked away.

"Okay, people," said Jack. "Back to work."

We had accomplished a major victory in capturing one of the enemy's largest vessels. But even as we set up watch details and conducted routine duties in holding this ship, we knew that the enemy had not been beaten into space dust. What was our next move?

What was their next move?

And what would happen if our moves were to collide?


	19. Mausoleum

I looked out from the truck as I was sitting with the other officers in our battalion, and I saw the freight gate of Gibraltar Base, with more trucks going in. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was finally back on base. We had been called home, and we spent a few hours on Moon Base ALuCE packing our gear and loading it onto the cargo shuttles that took us to the U.N. Air Base in Spain, where we unloaded all of our hovertanks and gear onto the trucks taking us home.

When the truck was parked, we all leaped out. I glanced around as soldiers got out of the trucks. I looked around, seeing the familiar buildings and other structures of this base. It was a warm day, and I could feel a little sweat; those trucks were definitely not air-conditioned.

"Attention!" yelled Major Jack Emerson.

We all saw the familiar lavender face of Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. He stood before us, clad in MARPAT camouflage. He did not even need crutches to stand, let alone sit in a wheelchair. We immediately saluted, and he saluted back.

"Welcome back to Earth, Micronians," he said. "I am back on duty, and I am taking command of this battalion. I know you are glad to be back here, but we've got work to do taking inventory and unpacking the gear. Major Emerson, I expect a full debriefing in my office after the gear is unloaded. The rest of you shall have R&R after we're done."

"Yes, sir," replied the major.

And so we unpacked the gear, as Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital and the other sergeants supervised the operation, and I had to fill out more paperwork.

Oooooooooooo

I sat on the leather couch inside the common room of the men's BOQ, watching a baseball game on the television. It was tuned in on a sports channel; none of us wanted to watch or read news about the war, as we had been living it for so many months now. I looked at the image of the screen, with the players in their outfits and the catcher wearing the mask and pads, almost looking like a fully armored infantry soldier, and the walls lining the field with the logos of corporate sponsors. It was so relaxing; doing this after filling out all of the paperwork that comes with returning from a major deployment.

"Too bad Jack still has to meet with the colonel," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.

"That's why he gets to live in a house," I said. "We should go to the O-club and get ourselves a drink."

"Damn right," said another officer. "After all that hard work."

"It's the enlistees who do the heavy lifting," said Mike. I had seen some of that myself, as they had unloaded boxes full of supplies and equipment from the trucks and into the battalions' storage warehouses.

"I haven't had to do that sort of stuff since basic training," I said. I could still remember marching around and having to do chores under the direction of drill instructors. And the barracks the basic trainees had to sleep in were almost primitive as Quonset huts. It seemed like such a long time ago.

My life in Jamaica seemed like epochs ago. So much has changed this past year. I still get flashbacks to my times in combat every now and then. I had learned so much. I still remembered that visit to Jamaica last Christmas, and noticed how different I was from my friends.

Ooooooo

About a week later, I was having dinner at the Italian-Spanish-Lebanese-Greek fusion place in Tangier with Jack and the other officers. It looked pretty much the same as before. We all sat around this huge wooden round table. I was having this lamb pesto pasta for my entrée and a glass of wine for a drink. We were all telling stories about our lives. Sure, the food in the O-club was not bad, but sometimes we have to go out for a meal.

"Jack," said one of the officers, holding up a Motorola cell phone, "we got a message from base."

"I have one too," replied Jack, checking his cell phone. He then looked at all of us. "Guys, we all got to head back to our posts. The Army's going into full alert again."

Our waitress, a blond-haired woman clad in a dark outfit, approached the table. "Excuse me," said Mike. "We've got an emergency. We need to take this food to go."

"Right away, sir," replied the waitress.

Oooooooooo

Mike and I returned to the 18th ATAC troop office, still clad in our Class "A's" and carrying Styrofoam boxes with the food from the restaurant. I figured we would have to eat on the job. The office was already busy, with soldiers in MARPAT camouflage walking about.

"Sirs," said Executive Sergeant Wing, approaching us and standing at attention. "Our uniform for the day is camo."

"Thank you, Executive Sergeant," said Mike.

A few minutes later we were dressed in MARPAT camouflage. We had to coordinate, making sure we were ready for deployment at a moment's notice.

About an hour later, a private gave me a phone call from battalion headquarters. I picked it up.

"Inform your troop that the Secretary General will be addressing the world in a minute," said the soldier on the other line.

I told Mike, and he gathered every soldier we could spare to watch the Sony color plasma television inside the office. An image of a wooden podium with the seal of the United Nations appeared on the plasma screen. A white-haired man in a suit went up to the podium. I recognized him as Wyatt Moran, the Secretary General of the United Nations. He was flanked by officers in Class "A" uniforms of their respective services.

"People of Earth," said the Secretary General. "The Robotech Masters have given us an ultimatum. They have told us to evacuate our world or they will be forced to destroy it. But it is we who will destroy them. I have ordered all members of the United Earth Forces to mobilize for an immediate offensive against our foe, and I ask the nations of Earth to get their troops ready for combat. We will not yield this world to this enemy. We will not yield this world to any enemy."

"All right, people, you heard our commander-in-chief," said Mike. "Let's prepare for war."

And so we continued. We once again did inventory of our supplies and equipment, and checked the systems of our VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertanks and did last-second maintenance, even going so far as to polish the hulls. I kept myself awake by drinking cups of instant coffee.

Mike then called the senior staff of the troop into the office.

"All right," he said. "The colonel wants us and the rest of the battalion to meet at the parade grounds. We are moving for an immediate deployment."

And we did. It was a clear night, and I could see the brightest of the stars.

"These are our orders," said Colonel Kravshera. "We have been ordered to go to Monument City. Military Airlift Command is sending a re-entry pod to pick up our combat forces right here. Our support units will stay here to await further orders. The battle is raging out in space even now."

I recalled there was a huge landing field in Gibraltar Base. It was not a full-fledged airfield like the Gibraltar Air Base, but it could handle a shuttle or a re-entry pod.

We all drove our hovertanks with us to the landing field. We only carried the essential supplies. If we had to stay in Monument City, our logistics company would join us.

And then the re-entry pod arrived. It was a United Nations Air Force Frandlar-Tiluvo landing ship. It was actually a Zentraedi design; the Zentraedi Nation still had a few of those re-entry pods in service. We all boarded the pod in battloid mode. A few minutes later I felt heavier as the pod took off.

"I wonder why we are going to Monument City," said Master Sergeant Avital. "The enemy could land anywhere on Earth, and the Straits of Gibraltar are a chokepoint between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean- a prime target for a beachhead"

"I have an idea," said Jack. "Remember those flowers that Lieutenant Meyers found growing inside that ship."

"Yeah," said Mike.

"I'll upload a picture and share it with you all."

I looked at a small screen on the control console of the Spartas. An image of pink flowers appeared on the screen. They grew in three, and I knew those were the same kind of flowers that I had seen during our invasion of the Robotech Masters' ship.

"This was taken inside the SDF-1's grave," said Jack.

I once read about how the SDF-1 _Macross _was taken apart after it had been badly damaged in a renegade Zentraedi attack. Much of it was recycled, and some of it was buried in concrete bunkers near Monument City.

"That ship had those flowers too?" asked Colonel Kravshera.

"Yes, sir. And I think the Robotech Masters are trying to go for those flowers, and the Supreme Command knows this- they must have studied the flowers we found on that enemy ship."

"Why do they need the flowers from the remains of the SDF-1 if they already have them on their own ships?" asked Private Ducasse.

"Those flowers must be really important. Maybe they think there are so many more of them inside the SDF-1. Or maybe the ones on Earth aren't as quite the same."

"Well, we need to stop them from getting those flowers," said Kravshera.

Oooooooooo

We landed a little over an hour later after we took off; those old Zentraedi re-entry pods were _fast_. I looked around the landscape. In the distance I could see the skyline of Monument City, with smoke arising from it like a jerk cook out.

"Over there," said Kravshera. I looked and saw three dirt mounds. "That is the enemy objective. Right now, the enemy is engaging several regiments in Monument City. We head towards Monument City and we keep the enemy bioroids from getting to the remains of the SDF-1. Let's go, Micronians."

And so we did. We raced across the landscape towards the embattled city. We switched to battloid mode upon reaching the edge of the city. Looking at the viewscreen, I could see other Army battloids duking it out with the enemy bioroids. There was another large explosion as an aircraft delivered more ordnance, kicking up rubble and dirt.

"Okay, take your shots," said the colonel.

I took aim at one the blue bioroids and I delivered a volley, and the blue bioroid went down in smoke and flames. In the back of my mind I knew that our own people could be inside those enemy bioroids. And yet we had to stop them.

We once again split into fire teams, and I led a team of six and took position at an intersection. All around us he heard gunfire and explosions. All of the smoke made the cityscape look hazy.

"Incoming!" yelled Private Ducasse.

Everything seemed to run on slow motion, like a movie. The enemy kept coming in waves, and we had to blast them down. Occasionally a veritech guardian would deliver much-needed close air support. The streets were littered with the wreckage of war machines.

There would be lulls in battle, like the eye of a hurricane. And then we would once again be in the thicket of a firefight, firing at the enemy while taking whatever cover we could. I also heard chatter over the radio.

"We're pinned down," I heard. "We need air support."

"We're at Fifty-Second Street," said another voice. "We can't hold them. Arrrghhhh!"

"Just keep it together, people," I said. I looked around; making sure we all covered each other.

"We could use some backup here," I heard Master Sergeant Avital say. "We're at Marshall and Fifteenth."

Colonel Kravshera contacted me. "Assist Avital's fire team," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "Okay team, we're moving out. We're gonna need some cover."

And so we switched to hovertank mode and raced across the rubble-littered streets, hovering a few feet above the ground. My heart raced. We had to get there fast while Avital's team was still there for us to save. I pushed the hovertank's engines to the limit.

We then came across Avital's fire team. I could see the flak coming from the enemy bioroids. Switching to battloid mode and using the STVFS, I aimed at the enemy bioroids and fired a salvo, destroying one of the bioroids.

"Thanks," said Master Sergeant Avital.

"Okay, people," I said, looking at the members of both fire teams. "We'll hold this area until we receive further orders from Colonel Kravshera or Major Emerson."

"Look," said one of the soldiers. "Up in the sky."

I took a look in the sky. I could see a huge Robotech Masters ship flying high above Monument City. Were they going to drop troops? Or bombs?

"Looks like they called in air support," said Avital.

"Take cover, everyone!" I yelled. And we did, trying to shield ourselves among the tall concrete buildings in the city.

My heart was racing as I anticipated the enemy's next move. The ball was in their court. I could only glance at the enemy ship, even as our fighter squadrons were attacking it.

And then there was this flash, and a moment later, I was knocked down from the shockwave.

"Is everyone all right?" I yelled. For two seconds no one replied, and I wondered if they were dead.

I wondered if _I_ was dead.

"We're a bit sore, but we're alive, I think," said Private Ducasse. "There's so much smoke though."

Indeed there was. There was so much smoke that we could not see even one hundred feet ahead. I reported in.

"This is Kravshera," said our battalion commander. "I'm still here."

"Everyone stay alert," said Jack. "The enemy might try to sneak up on us."

"Or they might try to get to the SDF-1 remains," said Lieutenant Chalmers. "Colonel, I suggest we make a retreat back there."

"Affirmative," said Kravshera. "We will retreat towards the SDF-1. The 17th will take the vanguard. Attack any enemy units you encounter."

And we did, making sure to watch our back so the enemy was not following us as we retreated through the smokescape.

"Hummingbird, is there any enemy activity near the SDF-1 remains?" the colonel asked one of the Air Force pilots doing aerial recon.

"Negative," said an Air Force pilot. "Look, Supreme Command Headquarters. It's gone!"

"Thank you for the information," replied Kravshera.

We had just taken a huge hit. We could function without Supreme Command Headquarters- we had backup command centers both in the air and on the ground. Still, Supreme Command Headquarters had much of our command and control capacity, and now it was dust.

"There might be survivors there, sir," said Jack.

"We need to keep the enemy from the SDF-1 ruins," replied the colonel.

"Don't worry," said the pilot from the airborne command center. "I'll have someone check out Supreme Command Headquarters for survivors."

We reached the edge of Monument City and we sped across the flat landscape in hovertank mode, heading for the three mounds where the remains of the SDF-1 _Macross_ were buried. I could feel the wind rush against my helmeted face. It took us a few minutes to reach the site. I glanced back towards the city, with heavy smoke rising from it.

"Okay everyone," said Colonel Kravshera. "The enemy wants the flowers inside those ruins. We will need to take samples of the flowers outside and hand it to whoever is above us in the chain of command. Then we burn the rest."

Jack spoke to me. "You're going with us inside," he said. "The hovertanks won't fit inside, so we'll have to enter by foot."

"Lieutenant Chalmers, you will stand guard here with the rest," said the colonel.

"Yes, sir," replied the lieutenant. He then gave orders to the other sergeants.

I made sure to take a loaded carbine and an M-79 grenade launcher, loading it with napalm rounds. Colonel Kravshera, Major Emerson, Master Sergeant Avital, and I entered the ruins through this big hole. We were descending. I noticed the walls were made of concrete, and there were rusted, leaky pipes attached to the ceiling.

After about a minute, I could see dust flying around. "What's this?" I asked.

"This place had been deserted for at least fifteen years," said Avital.

We continued walking down the corridor, with only headlamps lighting the way and our footsteps making sounds.

It was then that we saw it. Our headlamps revealed a huge landscape of pink. The flowers grew in threes, just like the one I saw on the enemy ship that we had captured a few weeks ago. They filled the entire chamber.

"So this used to be the engine," said Jack. "I wonder why the flowers would grow here."

"The SDF-1 was once the personal yacht of this prominent Robotech Master named Zor," said Kravshera, holding one of the flowers. "The Zentraedi were dispatched to recover his ship after it had been stolen." The colonel cut off on the flowers. "So this is why we were sent here. Okay, make sure you all take a sample."

And so I did. Using a combat knife, I cut one of the green stems and placed the pink flower inside one of the pockets in my hovertank suit, making sure the pocket's cover was closed.

"Everyone back," said Kravshera, and we retreated to the entrance of the chamber. I looked ahead at the flowerscape. "Make sure your napalm rounds are loaded. And fire."

And so we did, firing napalm rounds from the M-79 grenade launchers. Soon a lake of fire covered the floor of the flower chamber. I could feel the heat even through my suit.

"All right, let's get out of here," said Kravshera.

And we did, making sure that we walked quickly. Our footsteps echoed as we went through what must have been an access corridor on the SDF-1 _Macross_.

"Wait a minute," said Jack as we were walking towards the exit. "Where's Avital?"

I looked and I only saw Jack and Colonel Kravshera. "I'll go back for her," I said.

I walked back towards where the flowers were. I felt the heat get stronger. After a few seconds, I saw Avital leaning against the wall.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I tripped and I hurt my ankle," she replied.

"I'll help you," I said. And I did, helping her walk. We moved briskly, with her hopping on one foot. About a minute later I caught up with Jack and the colonel.

"Only a little further," said Jack as we made out way toward the exit.

"There," said Kravshera as we saw the daylight seeping in from the exit. It took us another few seconds to go out into the fresh air, although we could not smell it because we had our helmets on.

The others in our battalion greeted us.

"You all right, sir?" asked Lieutenant Chalmers.

"Yes," replied Kravshera. "Now let's form a perimeter and stay here long enough for the fire to…"

"Colonel, look out!" yelled a soldier.

I looked up and saw a huge enemy ship, heading directly towards us. It was not firing on us, though. It was moving faster and faster, and it was surrounded by a halo of flame.

"It's gonna crash here!" I yelled.

"Move out!" yelled the colonel.

I helped Master Sergeant Avital get into her hovertank, and then I leaped into my own hovertank. I maxed out the throttle as I sped away from the gravesite of the SDF-1's engines.

I heard a loud blast right as the shockwave reached me…


	20. Flower Girl

"Is everyone all right?" I heard over the radio.

I felt a little sore. Looking around, I could see the air filled with pink, from the petals of those flowers inside the burial grounds of the SDF-1. Looking towards the burial ground itself, it was a smoking ruin, with the twisted pieces of that ship scattered around the ground. Some of the VHT-1 Spartas veritech hovertanks had been flipped over when the shockwave from that crash reached us.

I noticed several Humvees with red crosses approaching our position, probably to evacuate the wounded.

"All right, people," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. "We will head back to the fallback position."

And so we did.

Ooooooooo

The primary fallback point was this little temporary fortification, just outside Monument City, surrounded by a sandbag wall and guarded by an infantry company. Along the sandbag wall were towers with machine guns. Inside the base was several helipads for helicopters, Quonset huts for everything from emergency medical care to food service, and even some anti-aircraft missile launchers. Soldiers walked about, doing all sorts of duties from maintenance to watch to just polishing the vehicles.

Among those of us who were injured was Major Jack Emerson. I went to visit him inside the Quonset that served as a mobile emergency room.

"How are you doing?" I asked him.

He lay on this bed, wearing the top of his MARPAT camouflage, his head resting on a pillow. On his right foot was this cast reaching up halfway up his right shin. The bed was not partitioned from the others, and I could see people in the other beds, some of them with many more casts and bandages than Jack had.

"I could walk with crutches," said the major. "I'm just glad that all I broke was my foot."

"At least you'll have some medical leave," I said.

"And then after I get fit for duty, the colonel will have me work extra shifts to make up for it."

"Jack," I heard a female voice say. I looked and saw a blond-haired young woman in a hovertank outfit.

"Dana," said Jack. "Glad you made it."

"At least I didn't lose you," replied Dana.

I recalled having met Dana before; Jack mentioned she lived with him and his dad when her parents were deployed on a deep space mission.

"I guess we're lucky," said Jack, glancing towards some of the wounded laying in the other beds.

"Listen, Jack, there's something I have to tell you," said Dana. "I…your…I…."

For a moment I wondered what Dana had to say to Jack.

A nurse in a blue outfit approached us. "The patient needs his rest."

"Okay," I said, leaving the Quonset hut.

Oooooooo

Not much happened the next few days, although we were constantly on alert for another enemy offensive. I gave the flowers I had retrieved to this colonel from military intelligence. We, including I, had to do patrols of Monument City. It looked like the pictures of bombed-out cities that I had seen in history books, with pieces of buildings littering the streets. I once saw an apartment building with the front wall collapsed, and I noticed a child's bedroom, with a rocking horse and typical children's furniture, apparently in perfect order.

The flag at the forward operating base was at half-mast. An officer had announced that Secretary General Wyatt Moran was killed in the Robotech Masters' attack. Those of us not on watch at the time of the announcement, including I, had to stand at attention as taps was played for the fallen United Nations leader. It was a global day of mourning. I also remembered that many other people fell that day. They all gave their lives to protect Earth from the Robotech Masters- I briefly remembered Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon, First Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane, and Private First Class Glenn La Belle.

Finally, our battalion was ordered back home to Morocco.

Ooooooo

We did the usual routine upon heading back to Gibraltar Base in Morocco, unpacking our supplies, equipment, ammunition, and armaments, taking inventory, doing roll call, settling back into our usual routines.

But there was one break from our usual routine.

Some of us took a flight to this place called Oklahoma in America over the weekend. We had landed at an airport known as Brad Henry International Airport. The surrounding countryside was flat, with all these farms lining the roads. It must have looked like a checkerboard from high in the sky.

I stood on this flat field covered with shortly-clipped grass. I was clad in Class "B" formal dress uniform, which had pants with a yellow stripe, a light blue collared shirt with tie, and a braid around my shoulder. The warm humid air made me sweat a little. Other people were here, some civilian, others UEF personnel clad in their service's Class "B" formal dress uniforms. Photographers took pictures; I could hear the distinct click of cameras.

And this was indeed a formal and somber occasion. For it was the funeral of General Rolf Emerson, United Nations Army, commander of the Robotech Defense Forces Command, who was killed in action in the last battle. I saw Jack, clad in his formal uniform and using crutches, salute (with Mike supporting him) as his father's casket was lowered into the ground. A bugler played taps. I could only imagine how Jack was feeling.

Jack did not join us on the flight back to Morocco. He had medical leave, and he decided to recuperate in Monument City.

Oooooo

"Here is my report, sir," said Executive Sergeant Wing, handing me a report printed on a few pages of paper as I sat in the office.

It had been a few weeks and Jack was still recuperating both physically and emotionally. It may seem paradoxical that recovering from a broken foot takes more time than recovering from an arm injury, like I had, but the foot was a complicated piece of biological machinery.

Life on base returned to a somewhat normal routine, which was basically conducting drills and keeping track of our supplies. But the shadow of war loomed over us. While the Robotech Masters had not recently launched offensives from space, we all knew that they still had ships out there. And we also knew they had ground positions on Earth, and we could be ordered to attack them at any time.

And while I normally did not keep myself preoccupied with United Nations politics, I did hear that the President of the World Bank was now the acting Secretary General of the United Nations, serving until the General Assembly can be convened. General Tom Washington, the Air Force Chief of Staff, was acting Supreme Commander, having served in that capacity since Supreme Commander Leonard was killed in an enemy attack.

"Anything new happening?" asked Mike.

I looked at a form at my desk. "I'm filling out a form for paid leave," I said.

"We're still at war. And besides, we already have people laid up, like Jack."

"Yeah, but other units can take up the slack. Besides, if I send in this request, the worst the colonel's staff can do is throw it in the trash."

"That makes sense," said Mike.

"Are you going to request leave?" I asked. "Pay a visit to that planet of yours?"

"I don't know," said Mike, adjusting his glasses. "I've read letters from my family."

"Maybe you should go see them. Who knows if you'll get another chance to be with them?"

"See you at the BOQ," he said, leaving the office.

I went to the battalion headquarters and dropped off my leave request at the personnel office. For a while I wondered if my request simply ended up in the trash.

And then, two weeks later, I received word from the battalion headquarters that my request was granted.

Ooooooooo

"Thanks," I said to Mom, after finishing my spicy serving of jerk chicken, my tongue remembering the familiar spiciness of jerk sauce.

I had arrived in Kingston this afternoon, flying in from Casablanca via London's Gatwick Airport. Everything, from the airport to the neighborhood to my family home, looked pretty much the same, except that there were no Christmas decorations, unlike the last time that I had visited Jamaica.

I talked about my life on Gibraltar Base; I had made it clear that I did not want to talk about my battles with the enemy. It was something that I could only share with people who were on the front lines. Mom and Dad could detect the changes in me ever since the war started.

"So you went to the moon," said Dad.

"Yeah."

"It must have been exciting," said Trina. Her husband, my brother Paul was working this evening.

"Well, the ride was exciting," I said, not going into any details.

"And how was the moon like?" asked Mom.

"Not much, I'm afraid," I said. "Just a military base and the city there. Plus the scenery is so bland outside. Just bare rock."

"Still, when I was your age I never imagined any of my kids would be going to the moon," said Dad.

I understood. It was hard to imagine that there was an age before robotechnology, which had allowed people from Earth to travel freely within the solar system and beyond.

Ooooooo

I took another sip of cold beer, feeling the absorption of heat from my mouth. Reggae music played over the speakers. The orange glow of sunset is visible through the glass windows. On the TV, I could see images, including a recap of a rugby game and a news report about some strange plant growing in this place called Pennsylvania.

I was sitting at a wooden table in the Cantina Loco with friends for a little get-together now that I was back in Jamaica. I was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. I was just glad to be here with my friends, putting the war behind me for now. It was not a very busy night, as it was a Wednesday evening; there were only two waitresses in the place. The place looked pretty much the same as before. I talked about what I did off duty; I did not discuss my battles.

"So I went on a skiing trip to the Argentinan Andes two weeks ago," said Hermes, sipping a beer.

"It's summer," said Fred.

"Not in Argentina. It sure felt different there, with all the cold weather and the snow."

I had usually associated summer with the middle of the year; it seemed alien to me to imagine winter weather in June. Then again, I did spend some brief time in Australia, though not for pleasure.

"Argentina?" I asked. "Must have been pretty expensive."

"I work security for a major pharmaceutical exporter," said Hermes. "I get paid well."

I knew what he meant by that.

"And I took a trip to New York last month," said Barbara, who was wearing an orange dress.

"See anything interesting?" I asked.

"Visited a few places, like Carnegie Hall and the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island and the Nova Complex," she replied. "I got some pictures on my phone."

She showed me pictures on her Blackberry. I saw an image of the New York skyline, the familiar image of the Statue of Liberty, the interior of a concert hall and the main hallway of a huge shopping center with brightly-lit stores on the sides.

"And your career?" I asked.

"I'm going to be a nurse by the end of the year," she said.

"That's great," I said. "Pretty lucrative. Pays more than a second lieutenant in the U.N. Army, even with a hovertank driver's bonus."

As we continued having more drinks, I realized how different my life's path is from these childhood friends of mine. The war had not hit Jamaica.

And then I started thinking about how civilians in other places like Casablanca and Monument City were not so lucky. Some of them may even still be prisoners on the Robotech Masters' ships.

I got up and used the men's room. As I got out, a lady said to me, "Must be great relaxing."

I looked at her. She wore a dress and had greenish blue hair. Either she dyed her hair, or she was a micronized Zentraedi- a few of them had settled in Jamaica.

"Yeah," I said.

"It's such a shame about this war. So much was wrecked. So much was wasted. And all for this."

She held up a triple flower with pink petals. I recognized it as the type of flower that I saw in the grave of the SDF-1 _Macross_.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"This is the Flower of Life, the raw material for protoculture," she said.

"So you're of the Robotech Masters," I said, gripping her wrist. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you in."

"We know about you," she said. "We kept track of the prisoners that escaped when our brother Lonarco defected, and we have our eye on you. You have fought well for us."

"I didn't fight. You hooked my brain to one of those bioroid things."

"And yet you fought well."

"I am going to turn you in."

"For what? There is no more reason for our peoples to fight. What our leaders were after was destroyed. But there is a new threat."

"A new threat?" I asked.

"Now that we have been defeated, others will fight to take the place of the Robotech Masters. Moons and planets will be stained with blood. And war may come to Earth soon. Our peoples may have to join forces to fight against common enemies."

She then walked away.

"What was that about?" asked Barbara.

"About the war," I said.

Oooooooooo

I had reported my encounter with the Jamaican authorities, who had grilled me about my conversation. After that, I spent the rest of my leave relaxing, and even spending some time with my brother Paul and my nephew Larry.

Then there were the goodbyes as I flew out of Norman Manley in Kingston, going back to Casablanca via London. Soon, I was back at the 18th troop's office, reporting back to duty.

Colonel Kravshera and Major Emerson were in the office to greet me. I noticed that Jack was back on his feet.

"Good to see you back on your feet, sir," I said.

"I hope you enjoyed your vacation, Second Lieutenant," he replied.

"The O-2 selection board's selection was ratified," said Kravshera. "You are now a regular second lieutenant."

"I am honored, sir," I said.

"You've done well as the XO here, so we recommended you for a permanent promotion," said Jack. "This means the colonel and I or even General Washington and the Secretary General can't demote you on our own; only a special or general court-martial can do that."

"So don't do anything stupid beyond stupid, Micronian," said the colonel.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "By the way, during my visit to Jamaica, I had an encounter with someone whom I think was a spy for the Robotech Masters. She was holding a flower very much like the one we saw at the ruins."

"Really?" asked Jack.

"You can debrief me on this later," said Kravshera. "In the meantime, prepare a written summary of your encounter with the spy and continue with your duties. And tell no one else about this, not even Lieutenant Meyers or Major Emerson."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

Later that day, just before supper break, I met with the colonel in his office. Notably, he kept Jack out of the loop. After that short debriefing, he dismissed me.

I continued assisting Mike in running the 18th. I was expecting the Global Military Police or U.N. intelligence to interrogate me about my encounter with the spy, but it did not happen.

And then, about two weeks after my return from Jamaica, Kravshera summoned me to his office.

"You have a special assignment, Lieutenant," he said, handing me a folder with a stamp marked "Confidential". "One of the factions of the Robotech Masters want peace and you will be part of the Earth delegation."

"Why me, sir?" I asked, though I knew it had something to do with that spy's encounter with me.

"I do not know. The order comes from General Washington himself. You will be on the next flight to Moon Base ALuCE to meet with the others at HQREFCOM."


	21. The Matrix

Here I was again.

Back on the moon.

The flight here, while long, was uneventful. They even served a good in-flight meal. After entering the terminal, a Space Marine escorted me to a vehicle corridor, where a Toyota Avalon staff car was waiting.

"Next stop, HQREFCOM," said the driver, a Space Marine corporal.

After a few minutes, we stopped at this concrete building, about four stories high. A sign identified it as the headquarters of the Robotech Expeditionary Forces Command, the unified combatant command that conducts the United Earth Forces' combat operations beyond Earth's solar system. I approached the glass doors of the main entrance, and an Air Force airman opened the door for me.

The lobby was huge, which was not surprising for the headquarters of a unified combatant command. There were chairs along the wall linked together, and glass-topped tables. A directory was to the right, and the front desk was staffed with junior enlistees. There were several people sitting down in the lobby. Some were military, dressed in the Class "A" service uniforms of their respective services, others were civilians dressed in business suits.

I waited for a few minutes. An Army corporal in Class "A's" entered the lobby.

"Sirs, madams, General Beckett is expecting you," he said,

And so most of the people and I that were waiting in the lobby followed him, navigating through a maze of hallways and elevators. I noticed a lot of activity, with uniformed servicemen walking back and forth, some of them carrying folders.

We went through some double doors. A sign next to the doors had read, "Office of the Deputy Commander of REFCOM". The front office had several sofas and a coffee table, and there was a desk where a Space Marine sergeant was sitting.

"The general is inside his private office, sirs and madams," she said.

And so we entered the private office behind the front office. The office was well decorated, as I expected a general's office to be. The centerpiece was this finely varnished wooden desk. A wooden bookcase stood to the left. On the back wall I noticed a photograph of an early-model veritech fighter, and another photograph which was that of the SDF-1 _Macross_.

Behind the desk sat a man with close cropped hair, dressed in the Class "A" service uniform of the United Nations Space Marines. The nameplate on the desk identified him as Lieutenant General Angus Beckett. We all stood at attention.

"Everyone," said General Beckett. "We have been expecting you. You are here for a diplomatic mission with the Robotech Masters."

I continued listening.

"For a while the enemy has not launched offensives against us, and three days ago they requested a temporary cease fire. They wanted to discuss peace talks, and they asked for certain personnel to be there."

I figured I was one of them. I was just an Army second lieutenant.

The telephone rang, and the general answered. "Thank you, Sergeant." He looked at us. "The admiral is on his way; he will be representing the UEF on this mission."

About a minute later General Beckett stood at attention. I noticed how tall he was; he stood at least a couple of inches above me.

I turned around and saw the man who entered the room. The two things I noticed was that he was blue and he was tall. He stood at least a foot taller than General Beckett. He wore the Spacy Class "A" service uniform, and from the sleeve markings I knew he was an admiral.

"I am Admiral Breetai, commander of the Robotech Expeditionary Forces Command," he said in a voice that sounded like thunder.

We all introduced ourselves.

"A shuttle is waiting to take us to the Robotech Masters' ship," said the admiral. "General Beckett, is there anything else?"

"Well, sir, in my opinion I can not trust the Robotech Masters," replied the general. "Remember, sir, that they attacked us at the Saturn Test Flight Center without any provocation."

"And if I may speak, sir," said a blond-haired woman who had introduced herself as Lieutenant Dana Sterling.

"Go ahead," said Breetai.

"The leaders of the Robotech Masters were killed. These new leaders might be willing to deal with us in good faith."

"The lieutenant has a point," said Admiral Breetai. "I myself dealt in good faith with the people of Earth when I was Supreme Commander of the Zentraedi Nation, although my predecessor did not. Is there anything else?"

"Admiral Hayes-Hunter of the Pioneer Mission sent a report, as well as a request for more supplies," said General Beckett. "I'll take care of it."

"Then we shall be off," said Breetai. And so we were.

We once again navigated through the hallways of HQREFCOM, and went out the main entrance, where several Toyota Avalon staff cars were waiting. I rode in a staff car with Lieutenant Sterling and some of the U.N. civilian officials. After a few more minutes, I was back at the Moon Base ALuCE's spaceship terminal. We all boarded the Star Goose shuttle via a jet bridge.

We took off almost as soon as we were all strapped in. I guessed an admiral could make sure his official trips get first priority.

"Are all of you doing okay back there?" asked the Air Force pilot flying the shuttle.

"Yes, we are," replied Admiral Breetai.

"There's something I have to tell you, Admiral," I said.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" asked the admiral.

"Sir, I don't know if you've already been briefed on this, but when I was on leave on Jamaica, I had contact with someone who was of the Robotech Masters."

"What did that someone say?"

"She showed me a flower. It was the same flower in the grave of the SDF-1. I was part of the team that tried to destroy the flowers during that battle in Monument City, sir. She said we might have a common enemy."

"That was a Flower of Life," said a green-haired woman sitting a few seats away. "It is the raw material for protoculture."

"Yeah, that was what she said. I notified the local authorities, and reported the incident to my commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. I haven't told anyone else about it."

"Your debriefing is noted, Lieutenant," Admiral Breetai said to me. "And let us not discuss this further until we meet with the Robotech Masters."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

I looked at him. If he had already known, he did not reveal it from the look on his face.

The rest of the trip was uneventful.

"We are preparing to enter the landing bay of the ship," said the pilot.

And so we did. I heard a thud, presumably the shuttle's landing gears making contact with the deck of the landing bay.

"They've connected the jet bridge, sir," said the pilot. "We may proceed."

We walked through the jet bridge; I noticed subtle differences in design from the jet bridge used in the shuttle terminal of Moon Base ALuCE. We all emerged into what appeared to be a lobby, with chairs and tables.

A woman with greenish-blue hair awaited us. She wore this red dress that reached to her ankles. She was escorted by uniformed guards armed with the equivalent of pistols and batons.

"Welcome aboard," she said. "I am one of the triumvurate in charge of one of the Robotech Masters' fleets."

"I am Admiral Breetai," said Breetai, "commander of the Robotech Expeditionary Forces Command, and representing the United Earth Forces in this matter."

We all introduced ourselves. I noted that the U.N. ambassadors of the United States, China, and Russia- all members of the U.N. Security Council- were here. I also noticed that the green-haired lady who rode with us was called Musica, and that she could pass for a twin of the lady greeting us.

"We do have something to show you all, the reason we wanted to negotiate with your United Earth Government," said our host.

She led us through some halls and to a corridor where vehicles were waiting for us. The corridor looked much like the cargo corridor of that Robotech Masters mothership that I had invaded a few months ago, with bare walls and overhead lights and guide signs mounted on the walls. I sat in the vehicles for a few minutes. The vehicles soon came to a stop in a garage.

"Let us go," said the lady.

We all went through a pair of double doors. There was yet another lobby, though smaller than the lobby of the hangar deck. One of the crewmen of the ship handed us hard hats.

We then walked through this utilitarian hallway, with exposed pipes and conduits overhead. The floors and walls were made of some sort of metal, and I could hear the footsteps as I walked. I could smell this slight tangy smell.

"Here we are," said our host.

We were in this huge room. The centerpiece of this room was this huge cylindrical thing, standing about two stories tall. The exterior was made of metal, and pipes and cables ran into it. Catwalks and stairs allowed access to the floor of the room and the metal cylinder. Workers in overalls and hard hats either walked about or stood still.

Two other ladies, looking identical to our host and Musica, walked in. They wore these fine dresses, as well as the yellow hard hats. The other two ladies wore blue and gold dressed, respectively.

"This is the protoculture matrix," said our host. "The device than refines the Flower of Life into protoculture."

"We have been working on it for years," said one of her triplets, the lady in gold. "It was just a few days ago that we had tested the protoculture."

"And now we can make protoculture again."

I stared at the huge device. I looked and saw a man in overalls push a cart and then dump its contents into a chute leading right into the protoculture matrix. So that was what made the stuff that powers robotechnology.

"Shall we go to more suitable surroundings for a conference?" asked our host.

And so we did. We walked through some more corridors, and then we all entered this room. The room had a wooden table in the center with some seats. A side table held a ceramic vase. The room overlooked the protoculture matrix's chamber; I could see the matrix through the window.

"Our sources indicate that the Flower of Life now blooms on Earth," said our host.

I noticed the representatives of the U.N. Security Council nodded; evidently they knew that it was true.

"It will be a great beneficial resource for both our peoples," said another triplet.

"It is unfortunate so many people were killed in a war over the last protoculture matrix," said the third triplet. "We all apologize on behalf of the deceased leaders who brought this war to Earth."

"You apology is accepted," said the American delegate.

"And we may have more war on our hands," said the first triplet. "At our height, we kept the galaxy at peace. But our power dwindled when the Zentraedi were defeated and our protoculture started running out. Now other interstellar civilizations are trying to fill in the power vacuum, including our longtime enemy, the Invid."

"I've heard the Invid mentioned by your old leaders," said Lieutenant Sterling.

"Our oldest enemies," said the second triplet. "They too seek the power of protoculture, and Earth is now the largest source of the Flower of Life. Earth may soon be a battleground over this."

"Maybe we can make peace with these Invid," said the delegate from China. "We can ask them to help rebuild our world in exchange for the flowers."

"Peace with them will not be possible," said the triplet in red. "They wish to dominate all who use protoculture."

I wondered how much of this was true, and how much was this was colored by their experience with these Invid.

"The Invid were indeed fierce foes with the Zentraedi," said Admiral Breetai. "It took many, many years to drive them into hiding. But now, nineteen years after the Zentraedi were defeated over Earth…"

"I do have one question," said Sterling. "How did you manage to build the protoculture matrix? Wasn't the secret lost with Zor?"

"I was close to Zor," said the triplet in the red dress. "We shared much together back when we were in Tirol. Our world, now an empty shell of its former self. Zor, he disagreed with our leaders, believed what they were doing was wrong. That was why he stole the last protoculture matrix and sent it on his ship. We tried to hard to recreate his work. If only we could have finished the protoculture matrix before we invaded, we could have avoided this tragedy."

I thought of the lives lost in this war. I thought of the people that I knew who were not alive today.

"Still, you should tell us why we should trust you," I said. The others in our delegation looked at me, wondering why I, a lowly second lieutenant, was speaking. "You put POW's and Earth's civilians into those bioroids, drugged them, forced them to kill their neighbors."

"It was a directive from the highest command," said the lady in blue.

"Just following orders is no excuse."

Some of the people in my delegation nodded in agreement.

"I was one of those people you put in those bioroids," I said. "How many people were killed by you using me! How many of my own people did I kill in battle?"

"And that is why you are here," said the lady in red. "You were used in our bioroids. We, and I speak for my sisters and I, not just our former rulers or the Robotech Masters as a nation, we did wrong. We were wrong to force you and your people into those bioroids, use your brain as a combat computer, and we understand why you do not trust us. We still have some of your people as prisoners, even using them as bioroids. As gestures of good faith, they will be released. We will also inform you of the deaths of the prisoners who died in our custody. And we will also supply you with some of the protoculture we made. We will need to rebuild, and to at least make peace, in order to be prepared for the Invid."

"Okay then," said Admiral Breetai. "We will have to discuss this with the Secretary General and the rest of the Security Council."

"Some of our people have not submitted to the leadership of this triumvirate," said the lady in blue. "We will persuade them to at least work with us in this venture."

Ooooooooo

Minutes later, we were back on the shuttle as it flew us back to Moon Base ALuCE.

"I don't trust them," said Lieutenant Sterling. "Even if they look like Musica."

"Do you trust them?" Admiral Breetai asked Musica.

"They have their own agenda, I am sure of it," she replied. "But we need to prepare for the Invid. They may even have spies on Earth."

"They can spy on us?" asked the Russian delegate.

"Yes, through the use of protoculture, they can modify their appearance. We have caught Invid spies in the past."

I stayed silent. The thought of another invasion, coming so soon after the first one, was frightening.

"We will need to rebuild our fleet," said Breetai.

"How is Jack doing?" Sterling asked me. "I know you serve in his battalion."

I remembered she was one of Jack's childhood friends. "He's doing well as can be expected," I said. "He is able to at least laugh." I briefly remembered a few nights before I went on this diplomatic mission where Jack, a few of the guys, and I went to the Spanish-Italian-Greek-Lebanese fusion restaurant place. "You know, Lieutenant Sterling, if you ever visit Tangier, there's this great restaurant in town. It serves this Italian-Spanish-Greek-Lebanese fusion food."

"That's good," replied the lieutenant. "When his dad died, Bowie and I were with him."

Ooooooo

I returned to the men's BOQ after a routine, somewhat dull workday. It was a few days after I had returned from that diplomatic mission with the Robotech Masters. I sometimes envied Executive Sergeant Wing, as he went out into the field more than I did.

Some of the officers were watching television in the lounge. I noticed that the television was tuned into a news channel. I noticed a black man in his fifties, wearing a Class "C" U.N. Air Force service uniform standing behind the podium. A caption identified him as General Tom Washington, Acting Supreme Commander of the United Earth Forces.

"We now have a cease fire with the Robotech Masters," said the general. "As a token of good faith, they released soldiers and civilians whom they captured during the war. We have confirmed the identity of the people whom they released, and we are informing the governments of their countries. I have been in meetings with the Joint Chiefs, the Department of Alien Relations, and the U.N. Security Council on this matter. Let us pray that this will set up a foundation of lasting peace."

I prayed a quick prayer. I wondered if we could trust the Robotech Masters. And I wondered if the Invid would attack us.


	22. The World's Greatest Bank Heist

Globs of paint flew as the VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks fired the practice ammo in battloid mode, splattering the cardboard targets with paint, making them look as if they had been struck by rainbows. We were on a training exercise, and I observed the hovertank drivers along with Lieutenant Michael Meyers and Executive Sergeant Wing. It was late fall, and the heat of the summer had faded. There had not been much news on the war front, not even a skirmish from the Robotech Masters. I did know from news reports that the Flower of Life was blooming around the world, mostly in latitudes close to Monument City. The flower was being harvested, and presumably being delivered to the protoculture matrix on board that Robotech Masters ship.

Were they plotting something? Were the Invid already scouting the planet, waiting for an opportunity to strike? Admiral Breetai had delivered a press conference about the Invid, explaining how they were the Zentraedi Nation's fiercest foe before the First Robotech War, and that they had been engaged in low-scale hostilities against Earth ever since they attacked, without provocation, the U.E.S. _Tokugawa_ about fourteen years ago.

"All right," said Mike. "Let's have some chow, and we head back to base."

And so we did.

Oooooooo

My duty shift was over, and I decided to read my mail in my closet-sized room. My promotion evidently did not give me a bigger room; Mike at least got a somewhat larger room with his promotion to first lieutenant, albeit not a house like Jack when he was promoted to major.

I sat in front of my miniscule desk and opened the mail. Most of it was junk, and there was a catalogue for Sears. I did see a letter from the United Earth Forces Global Credit Union, where I have savings account and where I deposit my paycheck.

I opened it, seeing a typical form letter with the Global Credit Union's letterhead on top. I read the letter.

"Check issued to you by the United Nations Army for one thousand three hundred forty-eight dollars has bounced due to insufficient funds," it read. "Please call the number at the top for more information."

I reread it. My paycheck bounced? How could it bounce? Would not the United Nations have enough money to pay its soldiers? I looked at the copy of the check, with my name on it my endorsement on the back.

I dialed the number of the credit union's customer service line on my cell phone, and I was put on hold. The automated voice kept saying that someone will be with me shortly.

I went over to Mike's room, gently rapping on the door.

"Hi," Mike said, holding a cell phone to his ear.

"Did your paycheck bounce?" I asked.

"I guess yours bounced too," said Mike. "I'm trying to call the credit union, but they keep putting me on hold."

I kept waiting and waiting for someone to answer my call. I finally gave up.

Oooooooo

It was the next morning that I learned the news. I was getting ready for duty. After dressing in the uniform for the day, I ate breakfast at the officers' mess, a typical routine when we were on base. I had some breakfast sausage to go along with corn flakes and orange juice.

I took a copy of the newspaper. The headline caught my attention just as I was to eat some sausage.

"**WORLD BANK, IMF LOOTED**" read the headline in bold capital letters. I browsed the front-page article, and it read that trillions of dollars had been looted from the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. The article also mentioned that the interim U.N. Secretary General had disappeared, as well as key United Earth Government officials. The chief of Interpol had called this a horrible crime, the biggest bank heist in world history. An employee of the World Bank had said that the missing money resulted in millions of checks written by UEG agencies bouncing.

I was angry. How could people do this? Just steal trillions of dollars, especially since we were in the midst of rebuilding the world and shoring up our defenses against a possible alien invasion? Someone needed to hunt down those crooks!

I later went to the office. Executive Sergeant Wing was inside.

"Any updates?" I asked.

"I had to spend some time getting the soldiers to come to duty, sir," replied the sergeant. "They're still mad over those checks bouncing. I had to threaten them with throwing them into the stockade. I would lead the mission to find those thieves myself."

I nodded. I wonder how many soldiers, sailors, airmen, crewmen, and marines were angry over having their paychecks bounce. How many of them would desert?

Later that day, I was at the credit union. There was this lady in a suit, and hundreds of soldiers were inside, wanting answers as to when they would get paid.

"I risked my life out there and now I can't even get my base pay!" one soldier yelled angrily.

"You know what?" asked another soldier in his MARPAT camouflage. "It's those Jews!"

"Yeah. That new Secretary General was a Jew! He was behind the whole thing."

"That lady there is a Jew. Maybe she knows where the money want."

I looked and saw Master Sergeant Rebekah Avital.

"Where's our money, you filthy kike bitch?" one of the soldiers asked angrily.

"Yeah, how could you people just steal the world's money?" asked another soldier.

The soldiers- both men and women- started surrounding the master sergeant. I sensed trouble and stepped in.

"Calm down," I said.

"Why are you defending the Jew?" asked a soldier. "Sir," she added.

"We're all angry about this whole paycheck situation," I said. "Master Sergeant Avital isn't responsible."

"Yeah, right," he said. "She probably has a plane waiting for her to take her to some island country or even off Earth where she can get her share of the stolen loot."

"If you think she's guilty, file a report with the GMP."

"Who needs the GMP?" asked another soldier. "We know the Jews did it!"

"All of you knock it off!"

I instantly recognized the voice as that of Major Jack Emerson. I looked at hi; he was standing near the glass door that served as the main entrance.

"You can either calm down," said the major, "or I can call the MP's and have you all thrown in the stockade!" His voice sounded thunderous and commanding, and I could see the soldiers backing off, with expressions on their faces like little children who had just been scolded.

"Jack," said Mike. "A lot of us are angry. I mean, we all risked our lives to save the Earth, and now the government doesn't have enough money to pay us? I mean, why should we stay in the Army?"

"Yeah," said another soldier, agreeing with Mike.

"You know what," said Jack. "My dad didn't die for a paycheck."

Ooooooooooo

An hour later, I was at Jack's house, sipping a few cold Corona beers as I sat on the sofa. I was watching the television. General Tom Washington appeared on the screen, giving a press conference behind a podium.

"The United Earth Forces no longer has sufficient funds to pay its bills," said the general. "I have written letters to the leaders of the nations to summon an emergency meeting of the General Assembly for the purpose of financing the United Earth Forces.

"In the meantime, we have financial obligations that need to be paid now. Our first duty will be to pay, in cash, for the medical care of our wounded soldiers. After that, we will pay, in cash, the base pay for our servicemen, starting with the lowest ranked servicemen first. I, being the acting Supreme Commander, will be the last to be paid; I will not accept payment until every other serviceman gets base pay.

"I understand that many of our servicemen had gone AWOL over this issue. I will say this. If they return to duty by midnight Greenwich time next Monday, I will personally exempt them from disciplinary action. What happened was wrong, and I will make up for it."

"This sucks," I said. I was a second lieutenant, which means I would not get paid before every enlistee, from buck privates to command sergeants major were paid. "Still, at least the Supreme Commander isn't getting paid until the rest of us are."

"I've met General Washington," said Jack. "He's an honorable man. Still, there must be something better to watch, like baseball."

"Or rugby," I said.

"We got to watch how much we eat," said Jack, changing the channel to a baseball game. "A lot of places are only accepting cash."

I glanced at a newspaper sitting on the coffee table. An article mentioned that many banks had failed due to the looting of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

Ooooooo

I continued my duties for the next few days. I had heard that the junior enlistees were paid by money orders from Western Union- cash deposits had to be made for each money order, so insufficient funds were not a problem like they were with checks. So far, there was no pay for the sergeants or officers.

Afterwards, Executive Sergeant Wing told Mike and me that some of the soldiers were absent. He had gone to the BEQ to look for them, but they were not there.

I, of course, could not ignore what was happening in the world outside of Gibraltar Base. I read and saw news reports about anti-Jewish pogroms happening in many places across Earth. Even in Casablanca, a synagogue was firebombed. Anti-Judaism has been around for thousands of years. It was just wrong for people to use recent events as an excuse to hate Jews.

Then one day, as I had breakfast in the officers' mess, I noticed that Mike was not there. In fact, the officers' mess was half empty. It was no wonder that I managed to get my breakfast so fast. After eating my breakfast, I went back to the men's BOQ and looked for Mike.

He was not there. I called his cell, and he did not answer.

I went to the 18th troop's office.

"Lieutenant Meyers is absent," I said to Executive Sergeant Wing.

"Many more of our soldiers are absent," he replied. "I left a message with the MP's."

I immediately called Jack.

"Hello," he said.

I told him who I was.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Meyers did not show up for duty, sir," I said.

"You tried looking for him."

"Yes, sir. I searched his quarters and called his cell phone."

"A lot of people deserted, including officers. I called the provost marshal's office, and the senior guy there told me the provost marshal had gone missing. If you will excuse me, Lieutenant, I have work to do."

I looked at Private Philip Ducasse, who was assigned to the office.

"Fetch me Sergeant Wing," I said. "We need to do rollcall."

"Yes, sir," replied the private.

Oooooooo

A few days later, I was summoned to a meeting at the battalion headquarters. I had read many news stories about the economic crisis springing forth from the looting of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera, who was dressed in MARPAT camouflage, stood at the head of the wooden table in the conference room as we all stood at attention.

"I have received word from Army Headquarters," said the colonel. "They have decided to scale back operations to make up for the lack of funds. Our battalion is one of many units that will be shut down.

"Some of us will be reassigned to other units. But most of us will be deactivated, placed into reserve status. All enlistees not reassigned to an active duty post whose enlistments are past the expiration date will be discharged. All enlistees whose enlistments have not expired will be placed on reserve status, subject to recall to active duty, until their enlistments expire. Officers not reassigned who have finished their service obligation may resign their commissions. Officers not reassigned who have not finished their service obligations will be placed on reserve status and may resign their commissions on the date they finish their obligations."

A corporal handed up manila envelopes. Kravshera dismissed us and I went back to the troop office.

I looked at the orders in the envelope. I was not being reassigned.

I get to go home.

Oooooooo

"I guess I'll miss this place," I said, as I stood in the garage. I looked at the VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks, hidden under tarp. The garage had this smell of dust and oil. The last duty of my unit was to pack everything up.

"I guess the Army will sell those things," said Jack. "They need to raise the cash."

"And yet there may be another invasion coming soon. I just hope the surviving Robotech Masters can help us."

"If we can trust them. Dana told me the leaders were killed, but we don't know anything about their replacements."

Oooooo

"This is a great meal," I said, sitting at the dining table with plate of hot beef stew before me.

"Thank you," said Leslie Kravshera. "What will you do now?"

The colonel had invited Jack, Master Sergeant Avital, and me to dinner. The Kravshera kids were there, messily eating, with food stains on their overalls.

"If you ever go into the Army, you will quickly learn table manners," Jack said to them.

"I guess I'll go back home to Jamaica," I said. "I don't have many connections here in Morocco. Maybe I could get a job. Surely my experience in the Army will impress employers."

"Lupon will still be on active duty," said Mrs. Kravshera. "We have to start preparing to move. The kids love it here in Morocco. They'll miss it."

"And what about you, Jack?" asked the colonel.

"I could get a civilian job," he said. "I might start working on my rap career. My friend Bowie has connections in the music business. He told me he's getting off active duty in a week."

"You could be recalled," said Colonel Kravshera. "If I remember correctly, you haven't finished your service obligations."

_If these Invid invade, I could very well be back in the uniform again, _I thought. _Maybe that will be what I wear when I die. _

I put that thought aside. "I'll worry about it when the Army tells me," I said. "Sergeant Avital, what will you do?"

"Well, sir," said Sergeant Avital, "I will go back to Israel. The Israel Defense Force is hiring, I've heard." She swallowed another mouthful of stew. "Sirs, it was an honor serving with you."

"You're the best master sergeant any battalion commander can ask for," said the colonel. "I'm sure the Israelis would be lucky to have you."

It was indeed an honor. No matter how much time had passed, I could never forget the people with whom I served, nor those who could not be here.


	23. A New Career?

"I certainly am impressed with your service in the United Nations Army," said the man in the red flannel shirt and blue jeans. "We've had a lot of veterans apply. Thank you for your time here."

"You are welcome," I said.

I had a job interview at this warehouse in an industrial area in Kingston. I only saw a glimpse of the warehouse, with wooden crates and a worker operating a forklift. The inner office itself was this small room with a lot of junk in it in addition to this cheap, worn-out desk and steel file cabinets.

I left through the outer office, which had one person working on a desktop computer. I emerged out to the street, which was paved with asphalt and lined with industrial buildings and wooden electrical poles.

As I waited for a bus on the main road, I recalled my return to Jamaica. I knew something was up when Norman Manley Airport was not as busy as I remember, but it was when I reached my old neighborhood that I knew what was wrong.

A lot of the storefronts on the main street were closed. Two prominent clothing boutiques and a bar, all of which were open before I was born, were having closing sales. I immediately started applying for jobs via the Internet almost as soon as I came home, but I have yet to get a job offer.

"How was your job interview?" asked Mom as I went back to my house.

"Great," I said. "This was my third interview since I got back from the Army."

"At least employers are interested in you. Why don't I microwave an instant jerk meal?"

"Thanks," I said.

Oooooooo

I later had a round of drinks at the Cantina Loco. The cantina was not as crowded, and there was only one cocktail waitress working; I remember before joining the Army when at this day and time of the week, the place would be packed. I also noticed that prices were half of what they were before, which was a good surprise. I did not mind the place being mostly empty, since I could hear myself think and not have to shout when talking to my friends, although I knew if this continued, the Cantina Loco would be no more.

"It's so hard for me to find a job," said Hermes, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and blue denim shorts. "People can't afford the powder any more. First it was that war with the Robotech Masters, and then someone stole all the money from the world's banks."

I nodded. Hermes had worked security for one of Jamaica's major pharmaceutical exporters, exporting drugs to America and Europe. Now he was laid off.

"At least you got some money saved up," I said, sipping a screwdriver. "You must have saved up a lot of money with how much you made."

"I spent it all," my friend replied, sipping a margarita. "Although investin' it would have hardly been better, since the value of investment accounts all over the world plummeted."

"I can't disagree with that, man."

Oooooo

Not much happened in the next few days. I did read articles on how prices had fallen, from food to rent. Of course, fewer people could afford them since there were many more unemployed.

In the shadows of my very being were my experiences in the war. I could sometimes still see the sights, hear the sounds, and smell the smells of combat. Even something like a flash of light or a loud noise could send me into a flashback, send me to fight the war again. It was like the hovertank was driving me, even after all this time. At the same time, I wondered why I had survived, and not those who were killed in the war.

Then one day, as I was sending my resume via the Internet, my dad told me that there were some people at the door for me. I had wondered why they came to my house, considering that employers would usually call me to have me meet them at their offices.

Going downstairs, I saw some men in black slacks and white collared shirts with black neckties around the collar. One of them, this tall black man with not hair on his scalp, asked my name.

"Yes," I said.

"We have an offer for you," he said. "We are from the Office of National Security."

"National security?" I asked.

"We understand there were some things you saw during your service in the United Nations Army. We wish to speak with you about a position as an advisor to the government on these matters. Do you have time to meet with us?"

"I do along with a fifth of Jamaica's people."

"We have a ride waiting for you out in the street."

"Just let me get dressed."

And so I did.

Ooooooo

Wearing black slacks, a blue collared shirt, a red necktie, and black dress shoes, I sat in the back of a black Toyota Avalon staff car as it traveled through the streets of Kingston, which I noticed had lighter traffic than usual. I did notice a lot of closed storefronts during the trip.

"So many stores closing down," I said.

"At least it means getting to buy stuff cheap," said one of the men.

"Yeah, if you still have a job."

We soon approached the government district of Kingston, with buildings of various sizes and shapes. I could see the Jamaican Parliament House, which I had last visited on a school field trip.

We then pulled into the parking garage that was used for a government office. It looked like the parking garages I had seen in downtown Kingston, with concrete walls, floors, and pillars, as well as many cars parked in the parking spaces. I stepped out of the car and escorted the men through glass doors and into an elevator.

We all sat at a large table in a conference room. The walls were painted beige, and a wooden bookcase on the left side held books. A woman in a dress was sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Good afternoon," said the woman, with an accent I never heard before. "I am an envoy from the Robotech Masters to the rulers of this island."

"We are in negotiations with them about the protoculture," said the government official. "You saw where the Flower of Life was buried, and you saw the protoculture matrix."

"How do you know?" I asked. "It was top secret."

"After the U.N. stiffed so many people out of their pay, it wasn't too hard to find someone willing to sell secrets."

"It is not our policy to have one single nation on this Earth to dominate the supply of protoculture," said the envoy. "The Flower of Life does not grow on this island you Micronians call Jamaica."

"And my being here?" I asked.

"You fought well for us. What our leaders did was wrong, making you kill your fellow Micronians. And these wounds, it will take time to heal. But we will face a common enemy, and for that we need a united front, to have all the nations allied together, especially since your United Nations has decided to abandon Earth."

"The General Assembly has yet to reconvene," said the Jamaican official. Many of the UEG workers have quit their jobs. Even the UEG office in Jamaica is abandoned."

I once again was furious at the greed of those people who had looted the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. What good would all that money do if aliens conquer Earth?

"The ship with the matrix will be parked in the Caribbean Sea," said the envoy. "The harvested flowers will be brought there and refined into protoculture."

"This is where you come in, my friend," said the government official. "You were with the Robotech Masters."

"Not by choice," I said.

"We will pay you."

That was tempting.

"I'll help you," I said.

Oooooooo

Once again, I was back on the Robotech Masters ship, on behalf of Jamaica, looking from the observation room towards the protoculture matrix.

I had arrived here on a plane, which landed in one of the ship's landing bays. I was then given a brief tour of the facility, along with other officials from different nations as well as the United Earth Forces. Ships arrived to deliver the Flower of Life to the ship, and it was loaded via cart to the protoculture matrix, where the petals would be refined into the protoculture needed to run robotechnology. I could see workers in overalls walking about near the matrix, some of them reading gauges, others pushing carts. One of them –apparently a supervisor- held what looked like a clipboard. I and a few others were watching from an observation room.

"Everything seems to be going well," said General Tom Washington, acting supreme commander of the United Earth Forces. "Aside from powering our reactors, we can sell the protoculture on the market. And we keep funds under lock and key."

I nodded. Looting the banks really hurt the United Earth Forces- it was the reason I was not in uniform now.

"General," I said to the general, "do you still feel the war?"

"I still feel the first war with the Zentraedi," answered Washington. "It is always there, even though I don't notice it most of the time. This war was such a waste. If only they had come in peace, Nina and so many others…."

"We'll have to remember that, sir. And yet we have to work with those who were trying to kill us to deal with a greater threat."

The general's face was impassive. We could not yet trust the Robotech Masters. And yet, who else was there to help us? Even the Zentraedi Nation's own space fleet was a tiny splinter of its former self, and the Invid were allegedly their fiercest foes prior to the First Robotech War, at a time when the Zentraedi had a fleet of nearly five million ships.

I wondered how the Zentraedi were able to get our trust in the aftermath of the first war. I mean, I knew they had had a change of leadership after the war, but still, the United Nations would still be suspicious of their intentions. And yet the Zentraedi later joined the United Nations almost a decade ago.

"I hope you enjoy yourselves," said the lady in the blue dress, who was now one of the ruling triumvirate. "We can create a new galactic order, an order where people of each world can live and trade in peace, where culture is preserved."

It was time for me to head back.

Oooooooo

I had to admit that I was enjoying my job. It paid better than operating a hovertank, and it was much safer than fighting a war. Plus, there were all these government perks, and a great café within walking distance of the office that offered this really tasty Danish pastry. I would pay an occasional visit to the protoculture matrix ship, and meet with the Robotech Masters' officials.

And from my insider's point of view, world news was dismaying. The U.N. General Assembly had not yet reconvened. Not only that, wars broke out in parts of the world, such as a war against Israel by Syria purportedly to recover the money stolen from the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. And of course, violence was breaking out in places like the Balkan peninsula and the Congo basin where U.N. troops had once kept peace. It was tragic how thin the veneer of civilization was, and how quickly it could be stripped away.

One evening, I just got off work. It was a typical day of reviewing reports and attending meetings. I checked my Nokia cellular telephone and I had a text message from Jack Emerson. It read, "I need to meet u in Jamaica. Important bizness." I sent a message back to him.

When I got home, I got another message on my personal computer. He confirmed his arrival in Jamaica with three others.

Oooooooo

I later sat at Cantina Loco, nursing a margarita, wondering if Jack would show up. For a few minutes I wondered if he had an emergency deployment and for some reason could not text me. The place was nearly empty because it was raining; my wet umbrella lay at my feet next to me.

Then I saw Jack at the front entrance. He was dressed in a gray long coat damp with rain and had a cap on his head. I noticed he was wearing blue jeans. With him were a man and two women. I recognized one of the women, with long blue-green hair. She was wearing a pink dress on her torso and classy pumps on her feet.

She looked like one of the Robotech Masters' ruling triumvirate.

"Great to see you, Jack," I said, giving him a hug. "I wonder why you didn't meet me at my office?"

"We want to keep this unofficial," he answered. We all sat around this circular wooden table.

"The government here could be watching us," I said as I sat down. "We'd better be careful about what we say."

"Right," said the woman with green hair.

"You are not one of the ruling trio," I said.

"I am from the same cloning line," she replied, speaking with this alien accent. "The name is Musica. I met you before, back when we first met with them."

"Oh yeah," I said. "Y'all look alike."

"The triplets must have their own agenda," said this blond-haired lady, who had introduced herself as Lieutenant Dana Sterling.

"Explain," I said.

"They said they were working on a matrix, and yet did not deliver it. So much trouble could have been avoided if they had simply told their predecessors their project was finished."

"I don't know," said Musica. "I don't think the old bosses would have settled with having a matrix. But still, they somehow managed to finish a protoculture matrix just after Zor killed the Ruling Triumvirate."

"And now they became the new Ruling Triumvirate. How convenient. They must be up to something."

"Good point, but remember that the Invid are coming."

"Yes," said the young man, who introduced himself as Corporal Bowie Grant, a friend of Jack's. "Musica told me about them."

I ordered some drinks from the waitress. "I hope we can trust our so-called friends enough to deal with these new players."

And so we had some drinks, talking about our lives and stuff. And yet I kept wondering about the agenda of the Robotech Masters' ruling triumvirate and about the Invid. And what about the nations of Earth? All of their plans about the protoculture were sure to trip all over each other.

And we would be in the middle of it all.


	24. Jamaica's Most Wanted

The next day, I was in the office, waiting for my lunch break, when some people in suits entered. I could see three burly-looking guys, all sharply dressed. Another man was in a black suit with a black necktie. He had gray peppered into his curly black hair. I recognize his face from the telly.

He was none other than Jamaican Prime Minister Johnson!

He addressed me.

"Your Excellency," I said. "What may I do for you, sir?"

"Is there a conference room?"

"Yes, sir," I said. I led them to the conference room, which had a small table and a bookcase filled with books on various subjects. I had had meetings with my boss here a couple of times. We all sat down on the leather chairs.

"How do you like your job so far?" asked the prime minister.

"Fine, sir," I answered. "It will open doors for me. Better than being a waiter."

"I remember what that was like, back when I was younger than you were," said Johnson. "Letting other people take care of the big stuff while I just went around with trays of food in exchange for gratuity. Now we have the fate of the world in our hands."

"Yes, sir," I replied. I briefly recalled my role in the war against the Robotech Masters, the same people helping us now- albeit under different leadership.

"Good. I have been informed that you maintain contact with members of the United Nations military."

I figured out how he knew.

"You have been keeping a watch," I said.

"I have people who do that for me. For which country do you work, my friend?"

"Jamaica, of course."

"Then remember that when you meet with other people in this work, you represent Jamaica. And if you do well for Jamaica, Jamaica will do well for you."

"I will, sir," I answered.

oooooooooo

Things were beginning to pick up. I had meetings with businessmen who wanted to distribute protoculture to private consumers. While most of Jamaica's share of protoculture was needed for the robotech war machines acquired by the Jamaican Defense Force, the Jamaican government still needed to raise funds. I still remembered the prime minister's words as I did my job.

I still wondered what we would do when the Invid decided to come here to take the Flower of Life. Although General Tom Washington was handling that, I could not help but wonder how to fight the Invid. Would they invade Jamaica?

One day, I went to deliver a routine report to my boss, Mr. Winthorpe. He had this large office with an expensive-looking wooden desk and some bookcases filled with various books. I handed the report to one of the trays on his desk.

I then noticed a man and a woman in professional-looking suits in the office with me.

"Was I interrupting anything, sir?" I asked.

"Actually," said Winthorpe, "we are so glad you could join us. Have a seat please."

I sat down and glanced at Winthorpe's guests. I then started hearing music in the office. It felt relaxing. I was glad to feel this way, as my work recently had been stressful.

I started to feel detached from the world, as my mind was floating away.

"What's…going on?" I asked slowly.

"This is part of the plan," said Winthorpe, his voice sounding like thunder. "It's why we hired. Do you think…"

Sound, sight, taste, smell, and touch seemed to melt together. I was barely aware of what was going on.

Memories and imaginations surfaced. Memories of my life in Jamaica, the taste of my mother's jerk cooking, memories of hanging out with Jack and Mike and the others, memories of combat.

And then everything came into focus. I heard some words.

"Kill them."

I then saw a woman in a red dress. She had bluish-green hair. I glanced and saw two identical triplets in blue and green dresses, respectively.

_Where was I? _I thought. I saw plaster walls and a large mirror, where I could see my reflection and that of the three ladies. .

"I said kill them," said the lady in the red dress.

"What is going on?" I asked. The other two ladies had looks of surprise on their faces.

I knew who they were; they were the Ruling Triumvirate.

I did not know how I got here, but I knew I had to leave. I glanced and saw a varnished wooden door.

I pushed my way through the door and entered this large hallway. It was wide, with a carpeted floor, and a few well-dressed people were there.

I made sure to make a brisk walk, but not to run. I just had to make it to the exit, find out where I was.

It was then that I heard gun shots, and I glanced back. That gave me an excuse to run.

I reached this huge room. A quick glance revealed it was a hotel lobby, with its registration desk, bell desk, and other furniture.

Someone grabbed my arm. I looked and saw this slant-eyed dark haired woman, wearing a cap on her head and a denim jacket.

"Jack sent me," she said.

I trusted her. She led me out of the lobby and into a small hallway.

"Wear this," she said. She gave me a baseball cap and a fake black beard and a sweat suit. I looked and saw myself wearing a business suit. I quickly undressed- something I learned in the Army- and put on the sweat suit and sneakers. The old clothes were stuffed into the leather backpack.

The lady led me out to the public area. I noticed a lot more activity, with uniformed police officers walking about. We made sure to steer clear of them.

We soon reached this concrete parking garage. Emerging on the third level, the lady led me across the concrete surface to one of the cars, a blue Ford Focus. I got into the passenger seat and fastened my seat belt. She started the engine, put the car in gear, and soon emerged from the parking garage out into rain-battered streets.

I looked at the scenery and I recognized the place as Montego Bay.

"Who are you?" I asked the driver.

"Major Nova Satori, Global Military Police," she said. "Jack sent me to watch your back when the brainwashing was activated."

"I'm just glad it worked, especially as we didn't know what they would be up to."

"We're not out of the woods yet."

She drove through the streets of Montego Bay, and then on the A1. I kept looking into the mirror for any police cars chasing us. It would not have surprised me. Given how I snapped out of mind control, I figured out something violent happened, and that the gun shots I heard were meant to be fired by me.

We soon reached this motel. It looked like most motels, with the rooms facing the central parking area. There were perhaps a dozen cars parked.

"Let's go," said Major Satori. We went out as the rain battered us.

"Room Eight, first floor," she said, stepping out of the office. I looked for the room, and saw the door with a brass "8" attached to it.

"Here!" I yelled.

Satori unlocked the door and I was eager to get in from the rain.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I can't believe it worked."

"For now. The local authorities might start barging down this door."

"You must have been prepared."

"The GMP has this sort of experience. We have safehouses all over the world, especially for witnesses testifying in trials against violent criminals. Still, we had to play a lot of this by ear, since we didn't know exactly what we were dealing it or what the enemy's plan was."

"Just like the war, eh," I said, lying down on the bed. I glanced around the room, which was unremarkable. There was a bed, a dresser, and a television. A bathroom was in the back.

I recalled my last meeting with Jack and his friends. His friend Musica was a mistress of the Cosmic Harp, which was used to placate the clones on the Robotech Masters' flagship. She was able to detect that I was still under the Robotech Masters control, that I could be "reactivated" at any time.

She could have simply removed the programming completely. But there was some scheme afoot, especially since I had been hired to such a sensitive position in the Jamaican government. I agreed to have Musica alter my "programming", such that I would stop if I tried to do something violent, like kill someone.

"I hope I don't regret this," I remembered saying.

I turned on the color television. A newscaster was at the hotel where I had found myself .

"It has been confirmed that two of the Ruling Triumvirate of the Robotech Masters were assassinated in this hotel," said the newscaster. "The third survived. Police are looking for this man. He is suspected in carrying out the assassination."

I then saw my own face.

"We've got to get you out of here," said Satori. "The Army should have a heli."

I watched the news report as a witness described the shooting. A waitress at the hotel told the reporter how she had heard the gunshots, and saw people screaming. I was now one of Jamaica's most wanted.

"I wonder who gave the go ahead," I said. "Jack doesn't have enough rank to pull this off."

"He reports to someone who does," replied the GMP officer.

For a few minutes I wondered if this whole plan was such a good idea.

"Let's go," said Satori. We went outside, and she pulled out this pistol and walked to the middle of the parking lot. Firing it into the air, I saw this bright green flare.

"Let's hope the extraction team gets us out of here," I said, my face getting wet in the rain.

I then heard police sirens. A few police cars pulled into the parking lot.

One of the police officers called out my name and demanded that I surrender.

I heard the familiar thump of a helicopter, and I looked above and saw the shadowy profile of a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter, a general purpose helicopter used by the United Earth Forces.

I saw a ladder descend. "Grab on!" yelled a voice from the aircraft. I quickly ran to the chopper and lifted myself up rung by rung as the rain wet my face even as the helicopter lifted up. I scrambled into the cabin of the copter, and Satori came in just behind me.

I could see flashes of gunfire as the police officers below fired small arms at us. We simply flew away.

"We extracted the package," I heard the pilot say. "We are heading back home."

I looked outside the helicopter. Soon I could see lights marking the Jamaican coastline. I had a feeling that I would not come back for a while.


	25. Trial By Fire

At least my surroundings were nice enough that I could regret my decision in comfort.

I was in a small studio apartment. There was a bed in the back, with a wooden dresser and a color television. In the front of the room was a small alcove with an electric stove and a refrigerator and a small dining table.

I had been extracted from Jamaica by the Global Military Police and ferried to this United Nations Spacy base somewhere in the Caribbean. The Spacy was nice enough to let me get some groceries from the commissary. One of the GMP's investigative aides always accompanied me. Major Nova Satori had told me that I should not leave the base.

I was not watching television. Pretty much all the channels had reports on the assassination of two members of the Ruling Triumvirate of the Robotech Masters, and I was the prime suspect. There was speculation that rogue elements of the United Earth Forces had orchestrated the event, whisking me away to one of their safehouses.

"The United Earth Forces are now operating without a United Nations Security Council," said one of the commentators. "Without a United Nations, they are nothing more than outlaws."

I then saw another channel. Some guy from Syria was on.

"This is clearly part of a Jewish conspiracy," he said. "First they steal the world's money, and then they cause chaos. They are responsible for all the wars in the world."

After relaxing in my comfortable room, I heard the door open, and saw Major Satori, clad in her Class "A" Army uniform, standing there.

Another person entered, and I recognized him as Major Jack Emerson.

"Hi, Jack," I said.

"Good to see you," the major replied. "I'm glad you're out of danger, for now. Someone is here to see you."

A black man in his mid fifties walked in, clad in Class "A" Air Force uniform, and I recognized him as Supreme Commander Tom Washington.

"Hello there," I said.

"Good afternoon," said the general. "Everyone at ease. Let us have a seat."

We all sat down on the dining table.

"Brief us on what happened starting when you lost consciousness before you found yourself facing the Triumvirate," said Satori.

And so I did, beginning when I delivered my report to Winthorpe's office.

"Amazing you pulled it off," said Washington. "I mean, if the battery on that watch had been depleted, then we would not have been able to follow you."

"It is unfortunate that the lady in the red dress had a backup plan in case you didn't follow through on the assassination," said Satori.

"Yeah, but think about it, Major," I said. "I imagine that if their plan went as intended, it would have ended with the guards killing me after I killed the two ladies."

"The question is, what do we do now?" asked Jack.

"The UEF has a general policy of delivering persons in their custody or control to a recognized state charging them with murder," said Washington. "But it may not apply in this case. Intel indicates that officials within the Jamaican government were involved. If we turn him over, he may not survive to see trial."

"So I hide out in U.N. territory?" I asked.

"I would advise to the Plenipotentiary Council that you be granted asylum."

"What's that? I heard of it before in the news."

"After a quorum of the General Assembly failed to meet, several member states formed a Plenipotentiary Council to take control of U.N. assets, command the United Earth Forces, administer U.N. territories, and conduct negotiations with the Robotech Masters, until such time as a quorum of the General Assembly convenes to take over. The Council has the final say of what to do with you. Jamaica has a representative on that council. They may defer to the demands of Jamaica."

"Sir, if he is turned over, he will get killed before trial," protested Jack.

"I know, and the chairman suspects this as well," said Washington. "I will speak to the full Council and urge them to grant asylum, and, if they choose not to, to allow me to take whatever measures necessary to keep you safe. Something bad is going on, and much more than the life of one war veteran is involved."

I later stood outside on the street. There were many clouds in the air, and puddles from the recent Caribbean storm dotted the street. Several small bungalows serving as guest quarters lined the street, as did wooden utility poles with streetlights attached to them and wires connecting them.

"So much has happened," said Jack.

"Yeah," I said, looking at the sky. "We need to be working together to prepare for the Invid, not fighting over scraps!"

"I know," said Jack, who was looking at the sky. "Every time I look up there, I think of Nina. Those few months. The sky is her final resting place in this Universe. She was the best."

"That's right," I heard General Washington say. I looked and he was standing about twenty feet from us. "When she was sixteen, I let her use one of the flight simulators the veritech pilots use for training. She said she wanted to do more than just fly crop dusters. She worked hard to be a Thunderbolt pilot. The Air Force was honored to have her as a pilot and officer, and I was honored to have her as a daughter."

Oooooooo

I was beginning to set up a routine during my stay on the base, eating meals at my quarters or in one of the little restaurants on base, going jogging, using base amenities. I was always accompanied by a member of Major Satori's team.

It was on a morning jog when Major Satori herself gave me some news.

"The Council has decided that you must stand trial in Jamaica for murder," she said.

"Oh," I replied. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"No, we are not delivering you into Jamaican custody. Supreme Commander Washington made an arrangement with Jamaican officials. The United Nations will maintain custody of you until and unless the court finds you guilty on the charges. You will be brought to Jamaica and back under my team's escort."

And so I was.

Ooooooo

"In my opinion, you should take the deal," said my lawyer John Jones. "A twenty year sentence is better for you than a life sentence."

"Aide from the fact that I am innocent," I replied, "I would not survive to serve even a year."

We were heading to the courtroom in Kingston. Jones was dressed in a black robe, and a white wig covered his head- lawyers wore that type of outfit when appearing in a courtroom. I myself was dressed in a suit. Major Satori and her team accompanied me, and several Jamaican government agents accompanied them.

We all entered the courtroom. The prosecutor was already waiting at his wooden table, clad in wig and robe. The judge, clad in that same outfit, went to the bench. The flag of Jamaica was erected on a pole behind the bench.

The judge read out the charges and asked for my plea.

"I plead not guilty," I said.

"Very well," said the judge. "As I understand, the government made an agreement with the United Nations in that the United Nations shall maintain custody of the defendant until the charges are withdrawn or a verdict is reached."

"We request that the defendant be remanded to custody."

"The defendant shall remain in custody according to the terms of the agreement," said the judge.

He banged his wooden gavel.

"What is next?" I asked as I was escorted out.

"Depositions," replied Jones. "Basically a less formal hearing where witnesses give testimony. It is not considered part of the trial, though testimony is considered evidence."

My mom then called out my name. She and Dad stood in the hallway, in their best outfits. Paul and Trina were there with their kids.

"Are you all right?" asked Paul.

"We'll be fine," I said. "I'm on the next flight back to base."

"Take care," said Dad.

I hugged them all.

Ooooooo

It was about two weeks later that depositions started. I sat in this conference room at the Kingston courthouse with the judge, my lawyer, and the prosecutor. From what my lawyer said, in a deposition both sides would question the witness; it was clearly much less formal that a courtroom hearing, as my lawyer wore a suit sans the black robe and wig. We had deposed several witnesses such as people at the hotel and some of the police inspectors on the site. Mr. Winthorpe was in the room.

"I advise the Prime Minister on national security matters," he testified. "The defendant here was our front man for our dealings with the Robotech Masters and the other nations concerning the protoculture."

"Describe what happened at the Montego Grand Hotel," said the prosecutor.

"We had a formal luncheon with businessmen and government officials," said Winthorpe. "We were charting the course for the world."

"Tell us what happened."

"I went to use the restroom near the conference rooms. After I left the men's room, I heard gun shots."

He then told the judge that I had run out of the ladies' room with a pistol in my hand, and that he opened the door and saw two of the Robotech Masters' Ruling Triumvirate dead.

I looked at my lawyer. "I did not see him when I ran out of that restroom," I whispered.

"I have no more questions at this time," said the prosecutor.

He then presented a drawing on the wooden conference table. "This is layout of the area where the shooting took place, correct?" asked Jones.

"It looks like it," said Winthorpe. "I don't remember."

"Which way did the defendant run?" he asked.

"Towards me. I looked right at his face."

He was just lying. I knew he was in on this plot.

"And yet other witnesses had testified that they saw my client running in the other direction, _away_ from the men's room."

"They must be mistaken."

"Or is it you who are mistaken?"

"I saw him with the gun."

"I have no more questions at this time," said my lawyer.

"The witness is excused and is subject to recall," said the judge.

Oooooooo

"The three of us were at a conference in Montego Bay in Jamaica," said the lady in the red dress, the sole survivor of the Ruling Triumvirate. "We met with many government and business leaders."

"And how do you know the defendant?" asked the prosecutor.

"Our intelligence indicated that he found the Flower of Life within the ruins of Zor's battle fortress," she answered. "He was also one of the captives we had placed in our bioroids during the war. He was later part of a diplomatic mission sent by the United Nations to our ship to discuss our plan for refining protoculture and preparing for the Invid invasion."

"Describe what happened to your sisters."

"We went into the ladies' room near the conference room. As we were checking ourselves in the mirror, he went inside and fired shots. It happened so fast."

"And where is the shooter?"

"In this room," she said, pointing to me.

"And what happened after that?"

"He ran off. I looked at my sisters. The paramedics came, but they were already too late. We worked together for so long. And now this happened."

"I have no questions at this time," said the prosecutor.

"How long was the shooter in the room?" asked Jones.

"Only for a few seconds," said the lady in the red dress. "But I definitely recognized him."

"Everything happened so fast, and you said that you turned towards your sisters."

"I will not forget his face."

"Did you ever use people from Earth in your bioroids against their will?"

"Yes," answered the lady in the red dress. "It was an action we regret. My personal participation was inexcusable."

"Does this brainwashing have any permanent effects?"

"Permanent effects?" she asked.

"My client could still be under a hypnotic suggestion."

"That can't be possible," she said. "He has not been subject to the treatment in nearly a year."

"He was missing for over a month."

"He can not still be under the influence."

"I argue he was. And you used his brainwashing in a plot to assassinate your sisters."

"Objection," said the prosecutor.

"Let me rephrase," said Jones. "Did you plot to assassinate your sisters using my client as a pawn?"

"No, I did not."

"I have no further questions, your Honor."

Oooooooo

"State your name for the record," said the judge.

"Major Dana Sterling, United Nations Army," said the witness, who was clad in a Class "A" Army service uniform.

"Tell this court how long you have been in the United Nations Army."

"Three year, sir. I was just promoted to major this year. I am currently assigned to the staff of Supreme Commander Tom Washington."

"And you have met the defendant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your witness," the judge said to John Jones.

"What was your involvement in this particular matter?" asked Jones.

"Major Jack Emerson, Corporal Bowie Grant, Musica, and I arranged a meeting with the defendant in Jamaica. We were suspicious of the intentions of the new Ruling Triumvirate of the Robotech Masters. We knew that the defendant had been forced to pilot the enemy bioroids, and so Musica used this device to find out if he was under the influence."

"And what happened next?"

"Musica changed the psychological programming so it would terminate if he was compelled to do something violent. We also fitted him with a hidden transmitter, which he would activate, alerting U.N. agents to extract him. We received the signal and the agents extracted him from the hotel in Montego Bay."

"No further questions."

"Who came up with the idea."

"Well, it sort of came up with an idea over lunch. Jack- Major Emerson- was wondering why the defendant was chosen to be Jamaica's liaison with the Robotech Masters, and why they wanted to see them during their initial negotiations with the U.N. over the protoculture matrix."

"And who authorized this mission?"

"Supreme Commander Tom Washington," answered Sterling.

"And you trust those who planned this mission? How long have you known them?"

"I have known Jack and Bowie all my life."

"Could it be that the United Nations's high command plotted the assassination?"

"I don't know."

"Could it not be that your friend Musica had actually brainwashed the defendant into killing the Ruling Triumvirate of the Robotech Masters?"

"If so, would that not make the defendant innocent?"

"My job is to get to the truth," said the prosecutor.

ooooooooo

"With the Robotech Masters, I operated the cosmic harp," said Musica, sitting in the conference room. "It was an instrument used to control the clones."

"And were you involved in brainwashing captured Earth people into operating the bioroids?"

"I had advised the triumvirate who had since took over rulership over the Robotech Masters."

"And do you know how many prisoners were killed while fighting Earth's forces?"

"At least three hundred, I believe."

"And the defendant was one of the bioroid pilots?"

"Yes."

"When did you suspect that the current ruling triumvirate was up to something?"

"I had wondered why they invited the defendant to the conference, instead of his commanding officer. The defendant than then appointed by the Jamaican government to represent them in their dealings with the protoculture. I knew how the clone hypnosis worked, and I wondered if the defendant was being used as what you call a pawn."

"A pawn."

"Yes. I fear there are those from both our peoples who wish to use the protoculture for their own advantage. When I examined the defendant with my equipment, there was a sleeper program hidden inside him, and I suspect in the other persons who had been taken captive by the Robotech Masters."

"And what did you do?"

"I placed a hidden command to press a hidden signal on his watch if he were reactivated, and to break the hypnosis if he was ordered to do something violent."

"And why did you choose that course of action instead of outright curing him?" asked my lawyer.

"We needed to see what they were up to," answered Musica. "And we were right. The lady in red betrayed her sisters."

"No further questions."

"You ask us to trust you, do you not," said the prosecutor.

"I say the truth," replied Musica.

"You betrayed the Robotech Masters during the war."

"I first left my people to join with this soldier, Bowie Grant. I later reunited with my sisters, and in an attempt to escape, one of them was killed. The Ruling Triumvirate abandoned many of the clones. They betrayed us, and the sister in red of their successors betrayed her two sisters."

"And how do we know you did not program the defendant to kill the two ladies in the Ruling Triumvirate?"

"You have my word. And even if that is true, would that not make the defendant innocent?"

oooooooo

"I would like to summon another witness for deposition," said John Jones. "I call Major Nova Satori."

Major Satori sat at the wooden table, clad in her arming doublet. She was sworn in.

"State your name for the record," said the judge.

"Nova Satori."

"Your citizenship or nationality?"

"Japan."

"Your witness, counselor."

"Tell me your rank and post in the United Nations Army," said my lawyer.

"I am a major and an inspector in the Global Military Police. I investigate crimes connected with the United Earth Forces."

"And how did you first meet the defendant?"

"The Jamaican? Majors Emerson and Sterling, Corporal Grant, and Musica approached me. They told me it was suspicious that he was given such a prominent position in the Jamaican government, with close contact with the Ruling Triumvirate of the Robotech Masters. After a few meetings, they organized a plan to check if he had programming and to alter programming. He agreed, and Supreme Commander Washington gave the go-ahead for the mission, which we called Operation Reggae. He was given a secret signal hidden in a watch, which he was programmed to activate if he was reactivated. And in February 22, the signal was activated. My mission was to extract him, to get him the hell out of there. We managed to do so, but not before two sisters of the Ruling Triumvirate were killed."

"Do you believe the defendant killed them?"

"No. The program was supposed to end if he was told to do something violent. It is my belief that there was a backup hitman just in case. Our intel demonstrates that this was a plot for the surviving sister to take control."

"I have no further questions."

"Your witness," the judge said to the prosecutor.

"That is an interesting tale," he said. "A grand conspiracy to kill two members of the ruling Triumvirate so that one woman could take sole control of the Robotech Masters and the protoculture matrix. What is your proof?"

"I told you.," answered Satori. "The defendant was requested by the Robotech Masters as part of the U.N. delegation, despite the fact that he was only a second lieutenant in a Spartas battalion. He was then given a high position in the Jamaican government, just below Cabinet level. And it was confirmed by Musica when we found the hidden program, set to reactivate."

"Very complicated, Major. Is it not simpler to say that the defendant killed those two ladies in the ladies' room?"

"It is simpler, but it is not the truth."

"Or is it not possible that Musica had actually placed the mental program causing the defendant to kill the two members of the Ruling Triumvirate, and that you were a pawn in a U.E.F. plot to assassinate the Ruling Triumvirate? There would be as much evidence for that as that yarn you just spun."

"Musica has earned my trust. The Ruling Triumvirate had not."

Oooooooo

Later, I was walking, with my military police escort, to the parking garage next to the courthouse.

"Things seem to be going well," I said.

"Let your lawyer worry about it," said Major Satori.

We got into a car. The driver put the vehicle and gear and headed for the exit. We soon reached the street.

The vehicle in front of us was consumed by a fireball, and flew into the air.


	26. Adam V Howerton

It was happening again.

I could hear gunfire, probably coming from the windows of nearby skyscrapers. I instinctively took cover, and instinct honed from a year serving in combat for the United Nations Army.

"They have us pinned down," said Major Nova Satori.

I briefly wondered who was firing at us. Could it be the Jamaican government?

I went out, fired at where I saw the muzzle flashes, and then retreated behind a car.

I wondered when backup would arrive. I could see and smell smoke from explosions. It was like the war all over again.

I could see an aircraft approach. Legs unfolded from it. It was a VF-11 Thunderbolt in guardian mode.

"I'll cover you!" yelled Satori.

The canopy of the Thunderbolt opened, and one of its arms reached out to me, the palm of its hand open. I got in and the Thunderbolt gently put me in the cockpit. I fastened my seat belt and then the veritech lifted up and took off. Soon we were over the waters of the Caribbean Sea.

"We're clear," said the pilot.

It took a few minutes for me to catch my breath.

Oooooooooo

The veritech guardian VF-11 Thunderbolt landed at the U.N. Spacy base where I had been sequestered. We disembarked, placing our shoed feet on the concrete surface.

The pilot removed her helmet, revealing herself to be Lieutenant Shelby Porter.

"Thanks," I said.

"I was on duty," answered Shelby. "Someone else on duty would have done the same."

"But would they have succeeded?"

I rested at my guest quarters. Major Satori had a plan in case something like this happened. I disguised myself as a Global Military Police agent, while one of them disguised himself as me. And Satori's concerns were proven right.

I turned on the television and watched the news. There were news reports about the attack in Kingston. I was reported dead.

"The trial of a suspected assassin came to an abrupt end…"

"..shocking the world…"

"..the Mossad was clearly behind this…"

"…our prayers go out to…"

Major Satori came to visit me.

"So now what?" I asked.

"We wait," she said. "Somebody didn't want the truth coming out. Damn it! I wish I had been wrong about this."

"Well, we were prepared in case you were right."

"And Sergeant Bennett died. Those..those murderers. This wasn't combat! He was a great aide."

I remembered Sergeant Bennett, an investigative aide assigned under Satori's command. He looked a little like me, so the major had him dress like me in transit from the base to the courthouse in Kingston.

And now he was dead, killed because someone wanted to kill me. I was not a specific target during the war- I was simply in the way of an enemy objective. But in Kingston, _I_ was the objective.

"We need to get those bastards," I said. "Make them pay."

"But how?" asked Major Satori.

"Whoever wanted to kill me thinks I'm dead," I said. "We could start from there."

Figuring the next step was harder.

"We do have a witness protection program," said Satori. "I remember hearing a story about some lady who assigned to RDF Command, back when it was headquartered in the _Macross_. She was a witness to a corruption case involving organized crime or something. I am not sure of the details, but after that renegade Zentraedi attack, she was reported dead and we secretly transferred her to Glorie Colony."

"Interesting," I said. "So you were sending me off-world?"

"If necessary. Somebody wants to cover something up, something that would likely been revealed if the case went to trial."

Ooooooooo

At least the room was warm.

That was much more than I can say about the air outside. It was cold; I had worn a heavy, oversized coat when I first came in. Now that almost all of the world believed I was dead, the Global Military Police put me in a safehouse located at a joint forces test flight center in this place called Astrakhan, which was somewhere in Russia. And Russian winters, from what I remembered reading about, were very cold. It helped the people there win a few wars even. I had been here the past few days.

At least the heater had not broken down yet.

I wondered if I was be relocated here.

I lay on the bed. Memories of the war surfaced again. The noises, the smells, the sights. I wondered how long these kind of memories would surface.

One day, Major Satori came to see me for an appointment. I quickly closed the door behind here to keep the heat inside.

"We offer you a post in the witness protection program," said Satori.

"So I get to live the rest of my life with a new identity," I said.

She opened a manila envelope and placed it on the wooden coffee table near the front door to the studio apartment. "These are the necessary documents."

I looked at the documents. It was an American passport and a driver's license of a man named Adam V. Howerton, who was about twenty-two years old.

"Adam Howerton was an American who served in the Army," said the Global Military Police investigator. "He was killed in combat two years ago. He even looks a little like you."

I searched through the documents; there was a DD-528, which was a discharge paper. It was dated a few months ago, when the UEF laid off hundreds of thousands of servicemen.

"You will be relocated to somewhere in America. You should be able to adapt since your native language is English. Alternatively, we can get you a land grant in Glorie Colony; they are looking for new colonists."

"And what if I refuse?" I asked.

"If you refuse, you will be returned to Jamaica," replied the major. "Our protection of you is dependent on your cooperation. We can not guarantee that those who tried to kill you back in Kingston will not try again."

"If you relocate me under this Adam Howerton identity, who else would know?"

"Only me and the Office of Witness Relocation. The GMP commander usually does not demand the details of relocated witnesses, let alone the High Command."

I sat quietly for a few minutes. This was a big decision. I would be cutting off ties to Jamaica should I choose a new identity.

"Okay, I want Jack to be in on this," I said. "Major Jack Emerson. I trust him."

Ooooooo

Roswell, New Mexico was not as cold as Astrakhan.

But it was still much colder than Kingston. The heater in my apartment was running, making a sound like a small breeze. The apartment was a studio, with a kitchenette in an alcove. I had boxes of crackers stacked on top of the General Electric refrigerator, and a two liter plastic bottle of Pepsi on the counter. There was not much news of interest on the TV and Internet. Aside from local news, there were one or two blurbs about rebuilding the armed forces in the event of another alien invasion.

The doorbell rang. I walked across the varnished wooden floor to the door of my apartment, and peeked through the peephole. I recognize the face and opened the door.

Major Jack Emerson walked inside. Instead of wearing an Army uniform, he was clad in a coat, a knit cap, and thick trousers.

"Nice place you got here," he said.

"Yeah," I replied. "The GMP sure knows how to relocate witnesses. How are things going?"

"As well as could be expected. It would be a lot easier if those crooks didn't steal most of the world's money, but we have to play the hand we have."

I remember reading that the UEF High Command had been relocated to the Roswell Fleet Yards. Jack was assigned there.

"How do you like life in Roswell?"

"It's cold and there isn't much to do here," I said. "My only company is TV and the Internet."

"Roswell isn't as exciting as Casablanca, Monument City, or even Tangier," said Jack. "The only interesting thing is my work, really."

"It just occurred to me," I said. "Colonel Kravshera moved to Arizona. That's not far away."

"It is a long drive, probably a day's worth."

"Well, you have a choice here, and it's a choice that can affect the rest of your life."

"I've been making choices like that for three years, Jack."

"You can stay in Roswell, and live as Adam Howerton," he said. "Or you can help us expose what really happened."

"I don't know, Jack. I mean, this is how I got into this mess in the first place. And yet, my family and friends think I'm dead."

"I understand. We can do this without you, but it would be easier if you were involved. But we won't wait forever for an answer from you."

Oooooooo

It was a long drive in the Ford Focus. I had driven across Jamaica years ago, and this was even more than twice as long, even though I was driving much faster than I usually did in Jamaica. Aside from a few cities like Albuquerque, most of the scenery was dry land made of reddish stone, with mountains and mesas. It was a desert, yet different from the Sahara in Africa. Most of the drive was on this highway called the 40.

I had exited and headed north on this two lane road. The land was a little wetter, as it was ranch land where sheep and cattle are raised. I recalled reading that most of Jamaica's beef is imported from America, since America had lots of land that is useful for grazing and little else.

I looked at the number on the mailbox. It matched what Colonel Lupon Kravshera had told me. Patches of snow were islands in a sea of green grass. In the far distance was a ranch house. I pressed a numeric sequence on a numeric keypad and told the people there that I was in.

"Come on in," said Colonel Kravshera.

I drove the car inside the ranch, along this damp dirt road, with snow-covered pasture on both sides. It took about a minute to reach the ranch house, which was a large, single-level structure with stucco walls. I saw the colonel walk out the front door and step out into the verandah.

Instead of an Army uniform, he was dressed in blue jeans and a heavy jacket. A broad-brimmed Stetson hat covered his head. Aside from that he looked pretty much the same with his lavender skin.

"Howdy," he said. "Welcome to the ranch."

"I am honored, Colonel," I said.

"I'm only a colonel when I drill with the National Guard. Come on in."

I walked inside the house and the rest of the Kravshera family was inside. They all sat around a wooden dining table with this checkered tablecloth on top. I recognized Leslie Kravshera, clad in a sweater and jeans, with her black hair tied in braids. Their son and daughter sat on the table, both wearing sweaters. An older man wearing a sweater was with them, with streaks of gray in his black hair; I remembered that his name was Johnny, and that he was the colonel's father-in-law, whom I had first met in the colonel's quarters at Gibraltar Base.

"How are you doing?" asked Mrs. Kravshera.

"Great, ma'am," I said. "I'm now living in Roswell."

"Yeah, Lupon mentioned that. I also read about what happened in Jamaica."

"Yeah, it's like I'm caught in a middle of a storm."

Corn bread was served, along with this meat stew with sautéed carrots and peppers.

"What meat is this?" I asked.

"Venison," replied Johnny. "Lupon hunted deer at the Navajo Hunting Preserve."

"I've hunted all my life," said Kravshera. "It was just that I used to hunt Invid. It's different, being out there in the wilderness, with a heavy coat and a rifle and a canteen."

"And with the deer not shooting back," I said.

We all had a good chuckle over that. Still, underneath that chuckle were the memories of the horrors of war. Memories I still have.

About half an hour later, the venison stew, corn bread, a pitcher of lemonade and three bottles of Tecate were finished. I had stepped outside on the front porch, my coat keeping me warm. Johnny stepped outside.

"Figured out what to do?" he asked.

"There are so many things," I said. "It's like I can't see the whole picture."

"From what I heard, you could live your life as this Adam Howerton. Nobody's looking for you, and only a few people know whom you really are. And yet, to live as Adam Howerton, you have to abandon your old life. All those people you knew since you were a boy, you would have to leave them."

"And yet I would have to fight to reclaim my identity."

"For what are you fighting?"

"I…I don't know. During the war, I was fighting to defend the Earth, but this next battle is just a squabble over who gets to have the protoculture."

"When I joined the National Guard, it was simply to get a taxpayer-funded trip out of the reservation. And then I found myself in a foreign land, carrying an M-16. Initially I thought I was fighting for my country, like what the recruiter told me. Then I was fighting just to stay alive.

"It was different with Lupon. He emerged from the clone tank only to fight. Fighting had been his purpose, in itself. Then he came to Earth, found its culture, and had a family. That is what he fought for in the war, and that is what he would fight for again."

I thought back. My old life in Jamaica, my friends.

For what will I fight?


	27. Ides of March

"So we meet," said the man.

I sat on a chair facing a steel table. The man was dressed in this blue tunic, and had purplish-blue hair. Standing in the room, in the corner, was Supreme Commander Tom Washington. The man in the room was an envoy of the Robotech Masters.

The plan was to privately inform the Robotech Masters that I was alive and under the protection of the United Earth Forces. Washington had invited the Masters to send an envoy to negotiate my delivery into their custody. We all met in this interrogation room in the Spacy Police Headquarters in the Roswell Fleet Yards. The only light came from an overhead incandescent lamp.

"We will now take custody of the man who murdered two members of our Ruling Triumvirate," said the envoy.

"Not so fast," replied the Supreme Commander. "We did not say that we will turn him over to you. We simply informed your lady that we have him under our protection, and we are _considering_ turning him over to your custody. I will decide whether to make a deal to turn him over. What do you have to offer?"

"We have been cooperative with your Plenipotentiary Council so far. We still have the protoculture matrix, and we still defend it. Turn him over, and we will continue to supply you with the protoculture."

"You still need us. You can not defeat the Invid by yourselves. They are coming to reclaim the protoculture, and that ship will be their first target."

"Which is why this issue needs to be resolved the soonest. We can not work together if we harbor murderers, especially murderers of heads of state. Would you cooperate with us, or anyone else, who harbored the murderer of the Chairman of your Plenipotentiary Council?"

"No, we would not."

"Then why keep him under your protection? Why conceal the fact that he is still alive?"

"We have reliable intel," said Washington, "that rogue elements orchestrated the murders of the two ladies from your Ruling Triumvirate, and that they also orchestrated the attempted murder of this man. We initially agreed with the Jamaican government to keep him in custody as they were trying him for those murders because of those concerns."

"Rogue elements?" asked the envoy. "You could be one of these rogue elements, even the mastermind."

"But why keep him under our protection. Why not kill him to eliminate a witness?"

"Maybe you owe him a favor. Rogue elements do not necessarily break their promises or betray their allies."

"Then help us. Help us find whoever was behind the attack in Kingston. We all want justice here."

"Justice is when we try him," said the Robotech Masters' envoy. "He will receive a fair trial, be permitted an advocate, and call witnesses. And the trial shall be open for all you Micronians to see. Remember that this galaxy is a big place, and there are thousands of worlds where the Robotech Masters can start over. I speak with the voice of my lady. Either turn him over right now, or we shall leave with the protoculture matrix and you to the mercy of our old enemies, the Invid."

"Let me tell you something," I said. "Your lady was the mastermind behind the whole thing. She had her sisters killed just to take all the protoculture for herself."

"How dare you attack our lady!" snapped the envoy.

"I will go with you just to tell it to her face!"

"Listen," said Supreme Commander Washington, "I'm sure we can all work…"

And then multicolored lights filled the room. I could hear footsteps of policemen outside running about, wondering what is going on.

"What is this?" asked Washington. "A hyperspace fold? But we're not on a ship."

Then the lights disappeared, and suddenly I heard a loud, air raid siren. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar sounds of gunfire and explosions.

"What is this?" asked the supreme commander. "You're attacking us?"

"They've come," said the envoy.

Several policemen entered, brandishing their M-9 Beretta semiautomatic pistols.

"General?" asked one of them.

"You two, our guests to safety," replied the Supreme Commander. "Lieutenant, I need an escort to the nearest command post."

"Yes, sir," replied the police lieutenant.

The envoy, two policemen, and I exited the building. The scene that greeted me was the chaos of a battlefield, a sight I had soon all too often. The attackers were these giant mechanical crabs- I could not tell if they were drones or piloted vehicles. They were in combat with the base's Space Marine detachment's destroids and veritech hovertanks. I also noticed some armored infantry, clearly the enemy, engaged in combat with the Space Marine infantry. The remains of combat drones littered the landscape.

Some Robotech masters soldiers ran up to us.

"Take him to our ship," said the envoy.

"Yes, sir," replied the soldier.

That meant me! They were taking me prisoner.

We sneaked through the base-turned-battlefield, with the occasional explosion kicking up dirt and debris. It was almost like walking through a movie. I could hear screams as some of the Space Marines were hit. The smoke was thin and somehow _smelled_ spicy. Two Robotech Masters red bioroids covered for us. We somehow made it to the transport shuttle. I looked out the open door, and saw the bird's eye view of the attack. There were no clear battle lines. It was like the enemy was scattered throughout the base, exchanging fire with the defenders. Another crab-like war machine flew towards us, and was promptly destroyed in a hail of fire.

One of the soldiers strapped me to my seat. They clearly intended to keep my safe.

Safe for my execution, I thought.

A few minutes later, I saw the Robotech Masters capital ship. I had noticed that it sort of resembled the old SDF-1 _Macross_. The transport ship soon landed in one of the landing bays.

I was hauled through the corridors, escorted by armed guards. I suddenly noticed multicolored lights permeating the room; we were going through a hyperspace fold. It stopped just as I was led into a cell block and placed in a small cell.

Over a year ago, I was a prisoner on this ship, and I was a prisoner again. I wondered what was happening back on Earth. Did those alien invaders overrun the whole planet? Did they conquer Jamaica? Were any of the people I knew still alive?

I had a lot of think.

Ooooooooo

Some time later, the guards hauled me out of the cell and marched me through some corridors. The ship could be anywhere in the galaxy, I thought. After a few rides in elevators and rail cars, I was brought to a conference room whose primary furniture was this long varnished wooden table.

Sitting in a chair at the end of the table was the ruler of the Robotech Masters, the lady with bluish green hair. She was adorned in this red dress.

"You wish to execute me in person?" I asked.

"It would be such a waste," she answered. "We should out our differences aside now that the Invid landed on Earth."

"Our differences? You sent people to kill me back in Kingston. Why? Were you afraid of the truth coming out?"

A hologram of Earth appeared above the conference table. "The Invid have established a foothold on strategic areas as well as the major Flower of Life farming areas," she said. "The people of your planet have withdrawn to easily-defendable areas. I will tell you that this ship is beyond Earth's solar system, and we are protected by some of our cruisers and two motherships. The protoculture matrix is safe."

"Why did you do it? Why did you have your sisters killed?"

"Oh, please. You think I am some big bad evil overlord that would reveal her plans to her enemies just before she kills them? Do you take me for a fool? I did not get to where I was by being a fool."

"It must have been pretty elaborate, though. I mean, making sure that every one of us you captured over a year ago was programmed to do your will, and that we stayed that way even after you released us. I also think it is awfully convenient that I was invited to the negotiations over the distribution of the protoculture."

"You keep coming at me with these baseless accusations! The Invid have landed on Earth. If we are to win, we must chase the Regent's forces off the planet!"

I heard a ringing sound, and the lady picked up a handset. I assumed it was some sort of telephone.

"Look like someone has come to greet you," she said. "She will be brought here."

And she was. She was this dark-haired woman dressed in a flight suit.

"Marie Crystal," she said. "Major, UNAF, Tactical Armored Space Corps. 35-156612."

"Drop it, Major," she said. "You are no prisoner of war- the Robotech Masters are at peace with the United Earth Government."

"You took a national of a member state of the United Nations to your ship."

"We rescued him from the Invid. And he is a suspect in the murder of my two sisters."

"You must have loved your sisters, right?" I asked the lady in red.

"We three were one, and you stopped that. But, given the circumstances, we can make an arrangement to put that aside."

"And yet they did not share your vision, did they?" I asked. "You had this vision, a vision of recreating the empire of the Robotech Masters, with Earth as its throneworld. A civilization run by protoculture, bringing peace, prosperity, and order throughout this Milky Way Galaxy."

"Yes, that is what I wanted, and that is what I fought for."

"Zor did not have this vision. Neither did the old Ruling Triumvirate, who had started this war. And neither did your sisters."

"Yes, they did not have that vision. Others had that vision. Some of the leaders of the nations of your world, including Jamaica's prime minister. And even the Invid Regent's advisors have had second thought about the course he is taking his people."

"The Invid?"

"There is dissent among the ranks of their advisors. They sought retribution against us and the Zentraedi, but after we were defeated over your world, some of them have wondered if a different course should be set. There could be peace- between the United Nations, the Robotech Masters, and the Invid. A new era of peace, if we all cooperate."

"And yet your sisters were in the way. They were in the way, so they had to go. They were in the way! In the way of your grand vision for the galaxy! I mean, your vision would have made life better for trillions of people for the next few centuries!"

"Yes, yes, it would."

"Trillions of people over the next thirty generations or so. Health, wealth, and peace. A new order based on protoculture and robotechnology. A new order where no one has to go hungry, or homeless. Trillions of people."

"Yes."

"So what were two people? What were they? Even if they were your sisters, how could their lives have been more important than those trillions who would reap the benefits of this new order? After all, two deaths does not compare to paradise in the grand scheme of things, do they?"

"How dare you," she said, glaring at me.

"But I understand. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. I saw many people sacrifice all for the greater good." Her eyes started to water. "I've attended so many memorial services. I like to think that they died for a greater good. So many lives lost, so many people left behind."

She started sobbing. "I still miss them," she cried. "I wish they didn't have to die. But it was for the greater good. I had to kill them."

"Tell everything."

"I had to make arrangements to make it look like you killed them. When it failed, I had the guards kill the others."

"You had to make it look like someone else did it, so you wouldn't take the fall."

"Yes. I had to do it. I had to make sacrifices for the greatest good."

"We know the truth," I said. I could not believe it worked. She just spilled the beans, just like that.

"So your plan was to get me to admit killing my sisters," she said, her eyes ceasing to shed tears. "You…you have not won anything. What I said will never leave this room."

Uh, oh, I thought. I really had not thought this through. But then I had been playing by ear ever since the Invid invasion interrupted the original plan.

"There must be no witnesses," said the lady in red. "Kill them."

"No witnesses, eh?" I asked, only barely noticing the sound of clicks as the weapons were readied. "You're all witnesses now. She betrayed and murdered her sisters! What makes you think she won't betray you? After all, you're witnesses. You might stand in the way of the greater good."

"She will never betray me," said one of the guards.

The other guards pointed their weapons at him and the lady in red.

"What are you doing?" asked the lady. "This is treason!"

"Our loyalty is to the Robotech Masters, not to you," said one of the guards, who was apparently the senior among them. "You betrayed your triumvirate."

"I will defend my lady!" yelled the guard who was apparently loyal to her.

"If you wish to spare her life, you will surrender."

"You…you can't do this! I was supposed to lead the whole galaxy to a new Golden Age! A Golden Epoch lasting a million years! You can't do this to me!"

"We just did," said Major Crystal. "You should have learned to handle your emotions."

"So what now?" I asked.

"We will contact the ship's command triumvirate," said the guard.

And so he did.

ooooooooo

A while later, some Space Marines boarded, dressed in olive-green arming doublets and bearing weapons. Major Crystal and I met with them. Another Air Force pilot, a Lieutenant Dennis Brown, had accompanied Crystal and hid somewhere on the ship, broadcasting its location.

"Colonel Kathleen Taney, UNSM," said the commander of the Marines, a lady with red hair who appeared to be in her early forties.

"We are in charge of the ship," said these three violet-haired men dressed in identical clothing. "We have learned of the betrayal. We will need a new leader to rule over the Robotech Masters."

"Here she is," said Colonel Taney.

This lady with bluish green hair stepped from behind the Space Marine escort. She looked like the lady in red!

"I am Octavia," she said. "I was with the old ruling triumvirate."

"We shall recognize your authority as ruler of the Robotech Masters," said the commander of the ship. "Provided that you in turn serve the Robotech Masters."

"You will come with us," the Space Marine colonel said to me.

And so I did.

Minutes later, I was sitting in a Space Marine transport shuttle, with Colonel Taney and the other Space Marines. I looked out the window and saw this huge, massive red ship, at least a mile long. It was the SDF-3 _Pioneer_, the flagship of the United Nations's Pioneer Mission, a mission to negotiate with the Robotech Masters. Obviously, the Masters were not willing to negotiate peacefully. The shuttle landed in one of the landing bays, and the door opened. I stepped through this movable tunnel connecting the shuttle to a pressurized corridor.

"Welcome aboard, Colonel," a Spacy crewman said to Colonel Taney.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Supreme Commander Washington wishes to speak directly to you," said the colonel. I was escorted through some corridors to this railcar. I sat on a seat in the open rail car and it moved along the tracks. Soon, we reached this railcar stop and my Space Marine escort got off the rail car, walked through some more corridors, rode some lifts, and we reached this conference room.

Inside the conference room, Supreme Commander Tom Washington sat at the wooden table. Ceiling mounted lights provided lighting. Major Jack Emerson was with him. Jack stood at attention.

"I have our guest here, sir," said Colonel Taney.

"You are dismissed for now," said Washington. "You will give my office a copy of your report."

"Aye aye, sir."

I had a seat. A few minutes later, Major Marie Crystal entered and reported.

"I can't believe this worked," said the Supreme Commander. "This was far from the original plan."

"Yes, sir," said Crystal. "The Invid invasion kind of tripped up our plan."

"Yes, and her admission was broadcast throughout the galaxy," said Jack. "She had a tendency to record all meetings."

"Betrayal of one's triumvirate is one of the worst sins among them," said Washington. "Now we must deal with the Invid."

Life was like that. People have all sorts of different plans, and they all trip over each other, trying to get what they want. But there was always One who always came out ahead whenever dozens of plans trip up against each other.

"Sir," I asked, "what is the situation down on Earth?"

"Some of Earth's nations have surrendered, others still resist. We have UEF units trapped on the surface. One of my concerns is the civilians who would be caught in the crossfire."

"There is something the former ruler of the Masters said to me," I said. "She said she had contacts with some of the Invid advisors, that she was plotting with them. Is there anything you can tell me about them?"

"I can say this," said Washington. "We've no contact with the Invid except skirmishes, ever since the _Tokugawa_ first fought them fifteen years ago. We stumbled across them when we reached Tirol. From what we can tell, they were the original masters of protoculture. When Zor invented the first protoculture matrix and the Robotech Masters were founded, they sent the Zentraedi to carpet-bomb the Invid home world with some sort of herbicide that killed the Flower of Life, which was the raw material for protoculture. Their ruler, the Regent, waged a war against the Robotech Masters and the Zentraedi, but the sheer numbers of the Zentraedi forced the Invid to hide. The near total destruction of the Zentraedi after the First Robotech War changed the game. They went on the offensive, attacking civilizations using protoculture. That is all I can say."

Later, I was resting in the guest quarters on board the ship. The quarters were very simple, with only a bed and a desk and a small lamp on the desk. The nearest bathroom was down the hall.

"How are you holding up?" asked Jack.

"Fine," I said. "I'm worried about what's happened to my family."

"Our intel indicates that there is no Invid presence in Jamaica," he replied. "They concentrated their forces on regions where the flower grows, as well as strategic straits and mountain passes."

My family was safe.

For now.


	28. Evacuation

"We must set the next stage for the reclamation of Earth from the Invid," said Supreme Commander Tom Washington, clad in MARPAT camouflage. "We must evacuate as many people as we can."

I was inside this large chamber in the SDF-3 _Pioneer_. Thousands of soldiers, airmen, crewmen, and Space Marines attended. All were wearing covers; this particular chamber was a cover area, where servicemen must wear their covers. Washington was flanked by Admiral Breetai, commander of the Robotech Expeditionary Forces Command; I recognized him due to his tall height and his light blue skin and blue hair. Other general and flag officers stood on the podium with the Supreme Commander. I stood next to Major Jack Emerson.

"We do not have room in our extrasolar colonies to evacuate the entire planet's civilian population. We can only evacuate a small proportion of civilians. We have made contact with authorities on the ground to organize the evacuation. Each evacuation team has a quota of evacuees, and under no circumstances will you evacuate more civilians than your allotted number. While we can not evacuate everyone, even those in places still under human control, we can evacuate enough people and assets so that we can maintain are capability to fight the Invid in space. You have your orders. Get in gear and get ready for battle."

"Yes, sir!" we all exclaimed.

Minutes later, I walked along a corridor with Jack. The corridor was busy with military personnel walking about, getting ready to evacuate Earth.

"Jack, I'm a civilian," I said. "Will I be settled in one of the colonies?"

"Not unless you are an engineer, doctor, or a married man," said Jack. "Single civilian men are near last on the list, just above people over thirty years old."

"Oh."

"The evacuation priorities are based on the colonization quotas we did in the past twenty years. Skilled people first, then married couples of childbearing age, then married couples with at least one child under ten, then females between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four, and then children under fourteen."

"I guess I'm out."

"As you. As Adam Howerton, you are serving as part of the evacuation mission and you can be assigned to an off-Earth base. As for me, I volunteered to be part of the Roswell Evacuation Team. I didn't want to spend my time sitting behind a desk."

We reached the hangar deck. Through a window, I could see crewmen in space suits working, making sure everything was ready.

"Major Emerson," said Lieutenant Shelby Porter, standing at attention. "I will be your pilot."

"Everything okay, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"All soldiers to their transports," I heard a voice say.

A few minutes later, Jack returned.

"Our people are ready to go," he said.

And so we did. Jack and I strapped ourselves in a seat in an Air Force transport shuttle. Some other soldiers were with us. Jack picked up a handset.

"Okay people, this is Major Emerson," he said. "We are all ready to go down to Earth. I will be the first one to step off the transport, and I will not step on the transport back to space unless every one of my men has done so."

I felt the transport shuttle take off. I could not see outside, but I could imagine the fighter escort forming a protective screen against the Invid. I could imagine the hull heating up as it entered the Earth's atmosphere.

A few minutes later, I felt a thud as the shuttle landed. "Welcome to Roswell Fleet Yards," said Shelby.

"I stepped out of the shuttle after Jack did. The place looked far different than when I was first here. The buildings were damaged from the battle a few days ago. I noticed that some of the runways were closed. Quonset huts were on the ground, providing temporary shelter for the crewmen and Space Marines still here.

"Lieutenant, go check on the evacuees," said Jack. "Use your hovertank."

"Yes, sir," I replied. I had been given a battlefield commission and made Jack's second in command. From my briefing papers, the evacuees were to assemble at the front gate of Roswell Fleet Yards. I drove the VHT-1 Spartas hovertank along the streets of the base to the front gate. I saw a huge crowd of people assembled there, with the Spacy police and a Space Marine infantry company keeping order. The commander of the Roswell evacuation, a Space Marine major general in MARPAT camouflage, supervised the whole scene. Thousands of people were at the gate. A few people were escorted inside. Most of them were young women, some as young as their mid teens. Others were young married couples, and other couples with young children. Anyone looking over thirty who had no children was immediately turned away.

"Anyone who tries to cross without our permission will be shot!" shouted a Space Marine with a bullhorn.

They were not kidding. There was a sandbag fortification and a temporary blockhouse set up. They were ready to gun them all down should there be a mass rush at the gate.

"Major Emerson," I said into the Spartas's radio, "everything seems to be okay."

"Copy, Lieutenant," he replied.

I looked closer. A couple with a teenage son and a little boy and girl were trying to pass through the gate.

"We can't let your son through, sir, ma'am," said the Space Marine colonel sitting at the table. "He's too old."

"We can't leave without our son," said the boy's mother.

"We do not have room even for everyone who would be eligible," said the colonel.

"Can I go through?" asked a girl. She was dressed in a coat and wore a knit cap. She appeared to be about his age.

"You look young enough," said a Space Marine.

"Then I'll marry him and he can go through," she said.

"You don't have to do this," said the boy, who clearly knew her.

"I know a male married to a female under thirty can enter."

"How will you get married?" asked the colonel. "Any priests around here?"

"I'm the county clerk," said this lady. "I can marry them. Just sign here."

They signed a paper, and she pronounced them husband and wife. She showed the paper to the colonel.

"You two may pass," said the colonel. "Enjoy the honeymoon."

"Thank you," said the boy.

The boy and girl boarded this bus.

"Get back here," said Jack.

"Yes, sir," I replied. I drove the hovertank, following the bus carrying the evacuees to the transport ships. A few minutes later, the bus and I reached the takeoff area. People were boarding the shuttles and some of them were already taking off for space.

"Everything all right?" asked Jack.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "There are a lot of people wanting to leave Earth. I guess they're afraid of the Invid coming here. They're already overrun the Midwest. The U.S. military has its hands full with refugees. We already have evacuation centers set up at airports in Kentucky and Oklahoma."

I noticed a civilian teenage boy standing near Jack. He had short green hair and wore eyeglasses. He wore a coat and blue jeans and sneakers.

"Who is that?" I asked. "One of the evacuees?"

"No," said Jack. "This is Steven Michael Sterling, Dana's little brother."

I introduced myself.

"I promised Dana that I would get Steve out of harm's way, to protect him," said Jack.

"They won't let him on the transports," I said. "Unless he's married."

"I'm not married, Lieutenant," said Steve.

"They will only let unmarried males under fourteen years inside, and Steve is fifteen," said Jack as another transport shuttle loaded with evacuees took off into the cloud-dotted sky. "He will come with us, after we fill our quota of evacuees."

"But wouldn't you get in trouble?" I asked. "Even get court-martialed?"

"It's okay," replied the major. "I grew up with him, my dad took care of him and Dana when their parents set off on that Pioneer mission."

Another busload of evacuees arrived; I wondered if they would be the last from here.

"Take cover!" someone yelled.

I took cover near my Spartas and heard explosions.

"We have to protect the evacuees!" yelled Jack. I switched the hovertank to battloid mode.

I knew the Invid would come, and I would be fighting them.

"All units," said a voice. "We protect the evacuees at all costs. No one is to retreat until all evacuees are safe."

"I copy," I said. For about a minute, shells rained down upon us. A few vehicles were destroyed. Above, there was a battle in the air, as fighters took on the Invids' flying machines, which had that crab-like appearance.

Then some other Invid war machines- skimming just above the ground- went in for the attack. I fired from a covered position, downing one of the alien machines.

"Good shot," said Jack. "But keep your guard up."

"There's more of them," someone said.

The next few minutes were like snapshots. Fire, find cover, fire again. The wreckage of war machines littered the landscape, with their smoke rising into the air. Occasionally, death would rain from above.

After our combat dance with the Invid, I heard an order.

"All Army and Air Force units attached to SDF-3 are to retreat," said a voice. "I repeat, all Army and Air Force units attached to SDF-3 are to retreat. Space Marine units are to cover their retreat."

"that's us," said Jack. "The rest of you get into the shuttle. There's someone I have to pick up."

"I'm with you," I said.

"Well, if I'm going against orders, so can you."

"Steve Sterling!" I yelled. "Where are you?"

"Did he board one of the evacuation shuttles?" asked Jack. "He could have slipped in when the Invid attacked."

"I'm not sure," I said.

"I see him," replied Jack. "Steve, hop in."

We headed for the nearest transport shuttle. As it turned out, it was the same transport shuttle that brought us here. I hoped Shelby kept the engine running.

We got off our hovertanks. Steven climbed in first, and then I did. I pulled Jack inside and we shut the door.

"Shelby!" yelled Jack. "Get us off the planet now!"

"Yes, sir," she replied. She pushed a lever and the shuttle rose into the air. I then felt the shuttle accelerate as I was strapped into my seat. Here we went. In a few minutes, we would be arriving in the _Pioneer_.

Suddenyl, something rocked the ship.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We're hit!" yelled Shelby. "I can't gain altitude. We have to eject!"

Transport shuttles had ejection pods. We all went to the back, making sure Steve went in first. I went in, followed by Shelby, followed by Jack.

"Here it goes," said Jack, opening a panel and pressing a red button.

I felt weightless as the escape pod went into free fall. I took a pice of lint from my pocket, tossed it, and noticed it traveled in a straight line until it hit the wall of the escape pod; it did not arc down.

Then I felt weight. The pod's parachute deployed, slowing our descent. After a few minutes, I heard a splash. I figured we landed in an ocean, lake, river, or someone's swimming pool.

Shelby looked through this round window at the door. "Looks like water to the horizon," she said. "Judging from our flight path, we must be somewhere in the Caribbean Sea."

"Is anyone coming for us?" asked Steve.

"The pod sends out a distress signal," replied Shelby. "A rescue team should get here."

A few hours later, there was still no rescue team. The only thing happening of note is that Jack had a cut on his cheek from the battle; I stitched it up.

"Another Purple Heart for you, mon," I had said in my Jamaican accent.

"What do we do now?" asked Steve. "I mean, what if these Invid, what if they defeated everyone?"

"Well, we dehydrate to death," said Jack.

"Surely you can think of something better," I said.

I peeked out the window. It was dark. The interior of the pod was dim, with only a few LED's lighting the pod.

"We're still sending a distress signal," said Shelby. "the battery is supposed to last for maybe eight hours. If nobody gets here by the time the distress signal stops, nobody is coming for us at all."

"I suppose we can't just paddle this thing," I said. "If we head due north, we should hit the coast of the Gulf."

"Not before we dehydrate to death," said Jack.

I figured this was a good way to end. I had fought honorably, even made a difference in the world.

There was not much to do but sleep. I was so tired. I could let go of life itself.

I was dreaming. There were images of war and peace. My family. My life in Jamaica. My battles with the Robotech Masters. My battle with the Invid. All the people I met, whose lives I touched. People in wet suits, shining lights on me.

I woke up and realized that I was awake.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"We're here to rescue you," said one of the men in wet suits.

Jack, Shelby, Steve, and I stepped into this motorized raft. I heard the engine roar as it sped. I could see the silhouette of a frigate. I was glad the Ocean Patrol came to our rescue.

As we got close enough to the ship, I noticed that it was not a United Nations Ocean Patrol ship.

The flag flying from the mast had a yellow X shape, with green triangles at the top and bottom and black triangles on the left and right. It was the flag of Jamaica. The ship was of the Jamaica Defence Force Coast Guard.

Ropes were dropped from the main deck, and the raft was reeled in, like a fish on a hook. We all stepped down into the deck.

"Show our guests to the guest quarters," said someone.

"Aye aye, sir," replied a sailor.

Ooooo

The next morning, we woke up on the ship's guest quarters. I looked around, noting the metal bulkheads. The only light was from an incandescent lamp overhead.

"Where are we?" asked Steve.

"On a Jamaican ship," I said.

A sailor arrived. "We have breakfast in the wardroom."

We were escorted down the hall to a ward room. It was a small room with a refrigerator and some cups and a coffee pot. There was cereal available.

A black man in khakis stepped in; he was a commander in the Coast Guard.

"Commander Thompson," he said. "Jamaica Defence Force Coast Guard, captain of the _McGillvery_.

"Major Emerson, U.N. Army," replied Jack. "Is there anything you can say about the situation?"

"We were on patrol and we got your distress signal," said the ship's captain. "I take it you were survivors of the Invid offensive in America?"

"Yes, sir."

"We've orders to steam back to Kingston with you three. There are no Invid in Jamaica. In fact, the government declared its neutrality, and was informed the Invid would respect our neutrality."

"Really?" I asked.

"That Flower of Life isn't growing in Jamaica. Listen, we have some games and a library to keep you entertained as we head back to port. Just don't cause any trouble. The brig is not a fun place."

"We won't cause any trouble," said Jack.

Oooooo

Not much was done in the next two days; I did get to know some of the sailors, some of who actually took part in naval battles against the Robotech Masters. I finally saw the shore of Jamaica as I stood on the deck. I could make out the skyline of Kingston.

And then the ship reached the Coast Guard base in Kingston.

"What will you do now, Captain?" asked Jack.

"We will resupply and resume our patrol," he said. "Give some of my men shore leave."

I stepped down the gangway and onto the pier. I looked at the buildings. The Jamaican flag flew on a flagpole.

I noticed men in suits approach me.

"You come with us," they said. They meant it.

And so I went with them.

Oooooooo

I was driven to this building and escorted to this bare room with only a table, a chair, and an overhead lamp. I was made to wait for hours.

I was still a suspect in a murder. Somehow they learned that I was alive. I wondered what would happen to me. Will they resume the trial? Will I remain in custody as the trial continued?

The door opened and this black man in a suit entered the room. I recognized him as my old boss, Mr. Winthorpe.

"No kind words for me, mon?" he asked. "We worked so well together."

"You were plotting with that lady to kill her sisters," I said.

"There was a plot, yes," he said. "You were replaced with a decoy. The decoy killed those ladies. During the trial, they sent a team to capture you, and you were reported dead. But thanks to our intelligence service, we found the plotters, and a special forces team eliminated them and rescued you."

"What?"

"Because you are innocent, the prime minister pardoned you. You no longer face charges for murder."

"That..that does not make sense," I said.

"It is the official story," said Winthorpe. "Of course, if you contradict it, we might find that you were involved in the plot after all."

"But…"

"All of that is in the past. We have a new future to look forward to, my friend. We are at peace with the Invid. They have no designs against Jamaica. Go, go meet your family, start your life. I am afraid, though, that your job has been eliminated. We need not negotiate with the other nations about the protoculture."

I looked and saw that smug smile on his face. And yet, what could I do? Who would believe me if I accused Winthorpe, let alone his superiors, of plotting the murders of the two sisters of the Ruling Triumvirate.

Ooooooo

I later reunited with my parents and my brother Paul and sister-in-law Trina and my nephew Larry and my new baby niece. It was such a happy occasion. To them, I had come back from the dead. I took in the familiar surroundings of my family home, noting the couches and chairs and the kitchen counter and the refrigerator and stove. We all ate a meal of jerk chicken and other Jamaican favorites. But even without that, I was so glad to be home.

Oooooooo

A few weeks later, I was back in the Kingston seaport. A transport submarine was docked, tied to the concrete pier by ropes. Beyond the pier was the wide expanse of the Caribbean Sea. Birds circled overhead. It was a warm day, and I wore a short-sleeve button-down shirt and shorts and sandals. A light breeze blew through my hair.

Jack stood before me, dressed in Army Class "C" service uniforms. He had the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant colonel.

"So you really want to leave Jamaica?" I asked. "I mean, there is no war here, and you would miss my mom's jerk cooking."

"We were given orders to link up with surviving UEF units in the event we were stranded on Earth," said Jack. "The Invid are gaining ground. We have to stop them and I have to be a part of it."

"All the fight has left me. I have to let others do the fighting now."

"As will I someday, but not today."

"I…I hope you are alive when you're done fighting."

"I wish you well," said Shelby, dressed in the Air Force Class "C", who was now an Air Force major.

"Are you fighting the Invid?" I asked Steve.

"Not now," he said. "I will stick with Jack; he's like a big brother to me."

"Here," I said, giving him a red, gold, and green rastacap.

"Thank you."

"I'm the senior officer here, so I should be the first inside the sub," said Jack. "Take care."

We shook hands, and Lieutenant Colonel Jack Emerson walked towards the gangway connecting the pier to the sub.

"Take care, Shelby," I said to her, kissing her on the cheek.

"I won't give up," she replied.

Steve waved at me before going to the sub.

I turned and saw Barbara.

"It was a great party you and Hermes and the others threw for them," I said. "We may never see them again."

"Not as great as your homecoming party. It was like you coming back from the dead. Still, they were great people. I hope to see them again."

"Listen, Barbara, would you like to join me for a joint right now?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Let's do it. We shouldn't take life for granted."

And so we left the port together.


End file.
